


A Drop of Royal Blood

by ie_heretic



Series: The Red Planet [1]
Category: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Culture, Aliens, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Awesome Bulma Briefs, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Canon Relationships, Coming of Age, Don't Judge Me, Family Drama, Family Issues, Family Secrets, Frieza's still a jerk though, Gen, Gore, I'm Bad At Tagging, Minor Original Character(s), My First Work in This Fandom, Off-screen Relationship(s), Outer Space, POV Changes, POV First Person, POV Third Person, Politics, Shenanigans, Slow Build, Vegeta will be Vegeta, Violence, What-If, Wordcount: 100.000-150.000, just because, most of it is in later chapters though, okay you get it it's violent, the Saiyans are alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 02:38:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 130,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6311932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ie_heretic/pseuds/ie_heretic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an alternate timeline where Planet Vegeta was never destroyed, Trunks lives the life of a prince on his father's home world. When unusual events begin sparking up one after another, Trunks suspects there is more than meets the eye when it comes to the increasingly fragile peace of the world around him – and that to secure it, his path may change the life he's had forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this story should explain itself as it progresses (alternatively, I could've called it 'The Half-Blood Prince,' har de har har). It should also be said that there's nothing from GT in it, and perhaps the occasional passing mention from Super, but overall the source material is from Z alone. Most canon characters will be in this story, but may have some differences – this is an AU, after all. In this first book, the only original characters will be very minor ones. 
> 
> While I've revised this story from how it was originally - mostly to correct grammar mistakes or typos - much of the literature remains the same. Despite that it wasn't published until later (on here or FanFiction), a substantial portion of this fic's first ten chapters were composed in 2015. Though they're not hard on the eyes, I've gained more experience from reading and writing since then and am not entirely satisfied with how this story looks, and merely ask that you take such a thing into consideration as well. That being said, I am still proud of myself for completing something that's 130,000+ words, so I hope you enjoy the read!
> 
> Feel free to review or comment. Constructive criticism helps, and I also just like to see your feedback/what you thought of the chapter in question.

_Deep breath, Trunks._

I tried to tell myself I could relax, despite having symptoms one might relate to drowning. Unable to catch my breath, an inability to focus on the sounds around me. I seemed to hear only static, or maybe it was the background roar of thousands of citizens waiting just ahead, anxious for the proceedings to begin. 

My father was saying something to me, probably something important, but for the life of me, I couldn't concentrate on his words. He must have noticed I was nervous, because he flashed me a small smile, rare enough in itself, and reached up to pat me on the shoulder. The entire situation seemed dreamlike now that it was finally here, so any uncommon gestures on my father's part were forgotten in the magnitude of the moment. 

We took a few steps forward past the archway, out onto the balcony, and suddenly my vision was filled with the crimson sky, horizon decorated with towering silver spires. Spots swam across the image until my eyes adjusted to the day. 

There was an army of Saiyans flooding the pavilion below, their noise roaring louder at our presence. I wondered in the back of my head how we managed to have so many people together without a brawl breaking out so far, we were a warrior species through and through.

A wind poured from the sudden open expanse before the balcony, flaring my red cape out behind me, as if to snatch it into the identically coloured carmine sweep above. I had the impression that I would be pulled away with it, flimsy as I felt. 

I looked at my father in a bid to stabilize myself. In this lighting, the mahogany highlights of his hair were visible too; amidst the spectrum of blood and black around me I must have stood out something fierce.

Father was speaking out to the people, his voice rolling over the plaza beneath us. He was not a tall man, but standing next to him now I felt very small, swallowed by the volume of his presence, and the eyes of all the Saiyans below that were locked on us. 

Perhaps this was my day of officially entering adulthood, but I don't think I could ever have felt as unprepared for it as I did at that moment. It hadn't seemed like anything every day leading up to it, nobody had made any fuss until the day before, and yet here I was wishing I could hide away until it was over. Maybe I wasn't ready then. 

I took a deep breath, steadying myself against the bannister. It felt smooth, even through my gloves.

Father had stopped speaking, and a roar of approval floated up through the air from below. 

This day was for me, and I'd be no prince at all if I let a little insecurity hold me back. One step at a time, as mom would say. How hard could it be?

The people cheered for their king, and as I raised my fist in the air in a sudden burst of confidence, they cheered for me too. 

 

\---

 

The remainder of the celebration afterwards was a much more reserved event. All indoors, though the room was well-lit and spacious enough to contain a formidable amount of people. 

It was a quieter, more personal version of what had taken place earlier, a brief commemoration from my father followed by a well-mannered applause from the crowd. Afterwards, a buffet was served for everyone, which had to be literal piles of food in order to satisfy so many Saiyans. There was enough for an army, and everyone had more than what they needed to keep themselves satisfied until the morning, myself included. When that was done most got up to mingle in conversation around the wide room.

Only the most privileged, elite Saiyans were in attendance. Casting a glance around the densely populated room I could tell that much. 'Privileged' being the polite word for civilized or notably powerful in this case, since 'power' and 'elite' were almost synonymous with our species. 

One's ranking in society was largely determined by potential noted at birth, though frequent displays of power in adulthood could be considered as reasoning to change status. The hierarchy of our planet was more structured than outsiders thought it to be, but less so than we on the inside upper class would like it. Moving up the pecking order required more than just brute force at this level.

There was, however, one Saiyan who defied any sort of class or label that people tried to put on him. Unfortunately, the infamous Kakarot was not present to set any elitist patriarchy into disarray at the moment, much to my annoyance. So many elites made the room stuffy, and Kakarot had a knack for lightening up any situation he was in.

Father would've wanted him to be there if he could, even if it was only to show up my progress against Kakarot's own two boys. Gohan was a number of years older that I, but Goten was right around my age. Though the latter was my closest friend, he sometimes travelled between worlds with his father and brother so he wasn't always around. We shared a friendly competitive spirit between us, always trying to one up each other. 

It was nothing compared to my own father's and Kakarot's constant rivalry, however. Though despite their constant bickering when around each other, somehow the two were friends. Or as near to friendship as the two vastly different people could be.

My family and the Son family were known to be close by nearly everyone in the kingdom. Even so, most of the members of our established council were snobbish fucks and they'd fight to keep Goten away from me today. Since Kakarot was somehow still considered third-class, his sons were also considered third-class, and regardless of my friendship with them I didn't know if Goten would be invited to this part of the ceremony (Gohan was away with Kakarot at the moment).

Of course, said council did risk insulting my father by such an action, and he wasn't exactly known for having a quiet temper. Not to mention that his word held more sway about what goes even if the council had a hundred people on it (it consisted of only eight Saiyan elites). I was never entirely sure how it managed to stay intact for so long anyway, considering my father had blown up the meeting room once in a fit of frustration with them.

Ah, Saiyan politics.

I swished the drink in my hand that I'd idly picked up earlier. The top of the liquid stayed smooth as my motions, almost seeming like a circular plane of glass as I wobbled it around inside my cup. I didn't think I'd even taken a sip of it yet, I became loathe to break the image of glass I'd invented by doing so now.

I stared blankly into the red substance, if I looked hard enough I wondered if I would see my reflection. I had the sudden urge to drop it all and see if it would fragment, not having to drink the wine wouldn't really be a disappointment for me.

I was jolted out of my thinking corner by an intrusion pulling me to face them, not roughly but enough to startle me. I would've considered saying a very choice set of words to the person, until recognition swept through me once I caught sight of their face.

It was Tarble.

Even he was attending. And he came along with his unusual wife Gure it seemed. Their two small figures would've been swallowed in the crowd, if it were not for my uncle's royal manner of dress to offer him some elbow room. 

That, and his spouse wasn't exactly what you would call a common sight. She was only knee-high, and I couldn't quite shake her resemblance to a walking, talking hard-boiled egg with a body attached to it (which I would never, ever admit to anyone). Any strangeness I ever felt about my own parents' union suddenly paled in light of her and my uncle's presence. 

I clapped my uncle on the shoulder in greeting and then bowed to Gure, who replied in kind. 

“The last time I saw you, you were just a kid. You've grown so much!” my uncle gushed, his hand on my bicep in a patronly way. I assume it would've been on my shoulder if Tarble were tall enough to reach it, but I kept the thought from reaching my face in the form of a repressed cheeky smile.

Instead I offered only a polite curve of my mouth, occasionally interjecting with a nod or small talk as he ensued into an onslaught of gabbing a million miles a minute. 

What he'd said was true, I hadn't seen him since I was a kid. There was a haze of memory trying to surface under the weight of time apart. 

Looking at him now, aside from the entirely different range of facial expressions he used, he resembled my father uncannily. Although somehow he managed to be even smaller of stature, and his build quite slim for a Saiyan. I wondered mildly if shortness ran in the family; glad that it seemed to skip my generation.

My uncle babbled on for a bit before dismissing himself, his petite wife offering a courteous word of leave before following him. I watched them go, my uncle's tail swinging freely behind him as he made off to find my father. It was an odd sight, as Saiyans usually kept them tucked around their waists to avoid baring their weak spot. Even among half-bloods I was the only person born without one, so I never had to worry.

The furry appendage was the last part of him visible before he disappeared into the mass of people. Gure stayed close behind him, probably trying to avoid the awkward situation of being unintentionally stepped on in such a large crowd. 

Tarble had never been considered strong enough to rule, or to even be useful to the royal family, and was usually off exploring space as he so wished. In a way, his failure in the eyes of his household offered him a freedom my father never had. Should anything happen to Father, Tarble would never be considered to take his place, his presentation as a prince was nothing more than a facade. The role of king would fall to me now.

I let the thought slip away as I scanned the gathering for someone I hadn't seen since the day before. Mom was usually very obtrusive in a crowd, especially in one of upper-class Saiyans. She'd been considered strange, alien at first, though in a place where people knew her she was stared at for entirely different reasons. 

I set my drink down and removed myself from the edge of the party to find her.

I moved through the thick of the mob, people offering their congratulations or well-wishes to me as I passed them. I'd heard thousands of those over the course of the day, especially when the gathering had first started, so my only answer was a cursory nod at that point. I didn't fancy being sidetracked, and trying to distinguish a specific head of blue hair in the room was proving to be more difficult than I'd thought. 

I wondered if I should find Father first, he was bound to know exactly whether she was there. As the king he should be the one I had the least trouble locating. And he was usually near her anyway, glowering from a distance at anybody he disliked talking to her.

Already I could see a throng of Saiyans crowded together across the room. I was about to head in that direction when I was interrupted again, this time very roughly. 

I met the eyes (or eye, rather) of an unfamiliar man as he looked down at me irritably, only to realize who I was.

“My apologies, Prince,” he said, dipping his head in remorse. 

He was somewhat tall and very tan, even for a Saiyan, with a thick moustache and hair styled similarly to my father's, only shorter. He had defined sideburns, and there was a vivid scar cutting through the socket where his left eye should be. Deep lines were etched into his face, premature wrinkles that probably made him seem older than he really was. 

His expression seemed sincere as he stared at me, awaiting an answer, though his posture was stiff and his sole eye glinted with... 

_Hostility?_

I would have thought so, had it been in another situation. I brushed it off as regular aggressive Saiyan tendencies before nodding to him.

“It's nothing,” I replied as a means of accepting his apology. I was going to turn away and keep walking, but he started talking to me and I stayed, to be polite.

“You know, you look just like your father,” he said, continuing to scrutinize me. 

I only blinked, I'd heard that many times too. Perhaps not in the way he'd just said it, though. I assumed again that my own mind was playing tricks on me and waited as he continued to talk.

“You're big and strong, and you have a good head on your shoulders. I wish my own boy would've been clever like you. The king's lucky he has such a perfect son, eh?”

I nodded again politely and swallowed a bit. I wasn't sure how long he was going to go on with this. I had someone to find. 

“Very lucky. It would be a shame if anything were to happen to his only child.”

I had only been half listening to his words, but what he's said caused my brows to furrow a little. 

“I wouldn't worry about it. I'm capable of protecting myself,” I said.

He smiled. 

“Of course,” he replied, cocking his head a little in what could've been amusement. A second later, his demeanour retained its former stiffness and he bowed briefly to me.

“You take care,” he said as he walked off quickly with a barely-there sound of swishing clothes. 

I stared after him a little, watching him vanish into the masses of people until I heard someone calling my name.

It was Goten, with my mom. 

My first real smile of the day broke onto my face uncontrollably.

“Trunks! We've been looking for you,” said Goten as he smiled back. His normally choppy, shoulder length hair had been somewhat tamed with a brush, bangs falling neatly above his eyes. He was clad in a nicer armoured chest-piece than I'd ever seen him wear, it was a deep forest green with ivory trim and shoulder pads. 

It complemented his hair and skin tone well, leading me to conclude that there was no way he'd dressed himself. His pants were a plain black and his arms were bare except for a pair of white gloves. 

“You aren't usually so hard to find,” Mom continued from Goten's train of idea. “I figured you'd be right in the heart of the celebrations.”

Mom was donned in a pale blush tunic with long sleeves and an identically coloured sash around her waist. She wore a pair of matte black trousers and boots, and her short hair was pinned on one side with a small clip. Tiny blue studs caught the light from her ears. 

I gave them both a tight hug, patting my friend on the shoulder as we parted. Mom clung onto me a little longer and I could've sworn I heard her sniffle, her face pressed into my shoulder.

“My boy, my grown up boy. Congratulations,” she whispered.

I patted her on the back soothingly before letting go, she released me reluctantly as well. 

The air between us suddenly felt a little heavy, I turned to Goten and looked him up and down before breaking the tension. 

“Goten! I've never seen you wear so much as a clean suit of armour. Did my mom get you this stuff?” I asked. 

“Nope. Grandma let me borrow it from grandpa's old stuff,” he explained, looking down at himself. “Pretty spiffy, eh?” 

I chuckle a little and punch him lightly on the shoulder. 

“Dork. You're the same no matter how you dress,” I joked. 

He laughed right back at me with a playful shove. 

“The pot shouldn't be calling the kettle black, you know.” He poked the royal insignia on my left breastplate. “You look like you're either about to fuck up an empire or fuck up your royal portrait in that thing.” 

“Wasn't my idea!”

“Boys! Manners,” my mother chided, though she smiled after. “I'll leave you two to your antics. I'm off to find your father, behave yourselves for at least ten minutes,” she said, brushing my hair fondly before turning to leave.

Goten waited until she was out of hearing reach before he nudged me.

“You're blushing,” he said.

“Am not.”

“Yeah you are.”

“Say that again and I'll kick your ass.”

“Oh yeah? I can take you on right now,” he grinned, hands on his hips as they usually were when he was challenging me.

“Are you kidding me? This shit weighs a ton,” I said as I tugged on a piece of my white armour. 

In response, he grabbed the cape with a wicked smirk and pulled it over my head. 

I'm sure a few people around us were rolling their eyes, but I didn't care. Even if it was my official day of becoming a man, that didn't mean I was suddenly going to change. 

Before our roughhousing got out of hand, we went outside where it wasn't so stuffy. It was getting late in the day, the twin moons bright crescents in the darkening maroon sky, hovering like half-lidded eyes. The approaching sunset was framed on both sides by familiar silver towers, daggers in the waning light. Goten and I flew to the top of the closest one, offering us a sweeping view of the city below. 

We sat up there until the stars speckled the sky, emerging one by one like awakening fireflies. The night was clear and crisp, we talked about nothing though we used words like it was our last chance to speak them. There was a mild chill in the wind and people were probably looking for me, but we were too happy to pay any mind. 

We stayed out all night, sparring after we left the tower just on the outskirts of the city. In the wee hours of the morning, after Goten was falling down from exhaustion, he headed for home and I went off in the other direction for mine.

I was so groggy, I was surprised I made it through the palace without waking anyone. Of course, the guards were awake, but they recognized me on sight and didn't bother me.

The excess amount of stairs seemed specially designed to trip me at that moment, though I made it up and down the hall towards my room.

I didn't even bother to change, clipping off my armour off and letting it fall to the floor. I flopped on the bed in the most undignified way possible and my eyes were shut within seconds.

In a world of warriors, nothing had ever felt so at peace. I wanted it to last forever, and in that moment, I really thought things were never going to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I don't actually specify Trunks's age here. I have no idea how long a year on Planet Vegeta is, or if they measure time the same way, and I am too lazy to add those details that wind up inconsequential for the story anyway. As far as how he looks physically, I picture him around 16/17.


	2. Chapter 2

I only got up when I did the next morning due to a rapping on the door. The familiar weight of each knock told me it was Mom.

“Trunks? Are you awake? Are you even in there?” I heard her call, muffled behind the door.

I let out some type of loud groan, letting her know I'd heard her without actually being fully awake. I was rolled over on my stomach, somehow entirely covered by blankets. I'd probably done it subconsciously to shield myself from any sunlight let through my narrow window.

“Do you know what time it is? I'm coming in,” she said, and the door slid open. 

I heard her heels click on the floor as she made her way across the room. The door slipped back into its place, the sound nearly drowned out from the insistent tap of her shoes.

“Why are you sleeping so late? You've missed two of your morning lessons, and it's about to become three if you don't get up right now.”

“ _Fmehhhhhuh,_ ” I mumbled.

“What?”

“I said five more minutes,” I spoke slowly, lifting my head from the mattress a little so she could hear me.

“Absolutely not. Sorry, but you've been sleeping in for hours. Tardiness is not becoming of a prince,” she teased. 

I sat up, yanking the blankets down to waist level. I was assaulted with a sudden glare of light from the room, and I squinted in pain.

A blurry image of Mom came into focus, she stood at the foot of my bed with her arms crossed. 

Quite suddenly, she grinned at me.

“Nice bedhead,” she laughed.

I shot her a sleepy scowl and ruffled my hair, attempting to fix it without having a mirror. It was getting long now, a little past my chin, and thus more difficult to keep neat. I'd have to get it cut soon.

I was curious to know why she'd woken me up herself, but not curious enough to ask. She answered the unspoken question for me anyway.

“So I wanted to ask you a favour,” she said. “I was thinking... Well, we never really spend a lot of time together, the three of us, and later today, I thought we could all have dinner together... as a family,” she said, her tone holding a hint of pleading at the end.

“Uh, sounds good Mom,” I replied, still half awake. 

Her face brightened.

“Alright! It's a plan. Now get yourself together, you have a lesson to attend,” she said, reaching over to ruffle my hair. 

“Argh, you're making it worse!” I complained, attempting to pat down my purple mop into something decent. She only laughed as she walked away, door moving open and shut for her.

I showered, dressed, and tied my hair back in record time, eager to avoid a verbal lashing from my instructor. 

I grabbed my sword from its place at the bedside just before I left, slinging the strap over my shoulder and adjusting it on my way out the door.

The lesson I was so eager not to miss was weapon combat. Many Saiyans chose to fight without weapons, and only a small fraction of those that did wield them used swords. My private instructor, a shrewd and skinny man named Bak, was one of those few.

His appearance belied his skill with a blade. He was almost shorter than Father and considerably less muscular; he had a thin, wrinkled face, and a hooked nose that I'd had the misfortune of making fun of once when I'd first met him (to be fair, I was a kid when I started). He had a long, thin moustache and equally thin hair that hung in dark, lanky pieces down to his shoulders. His hooded and beady eyes were always watchful, the only hint of his decisive mind. 

For a long time, whenever I'd make a mistake he'd slap me with the broadside of his blade. I'd lost count of the bruises after just a few sessions. But I was no quitter, equal parts tenacious and arrogant, and determined to catch him off-guard one day. It was years of training before that happened.

Now, I was skilled enough to actually present a challenge for the man, and I'd sometimes be able to wind him after a match.

Today was one of those days.

The sound of clashing swords had filled the air for an hour before we stopped, the both of us sweating and in need of a rest.

I was seated on a bench in the training room, grateful for the open roof of the area. Since it rarely rained on Planet Vegeta, the place was kept ideal and airy for its users. Should there happen to be bad weather, the roof and windows were capable of sliding closed. While most of the buildings on the planet were tall, this section was squat and rectangular, a glaring dissimilarity with the surrounding architecture. 

“Well done, Prince,” said Bak, sitting a few feet away on another bench. “You get better every day.”

Compliments from him were rare, so I nodded, too winded to answer in words yet.

“However, you're still too impatient. A furious offence may surprise your opponent, but if you don't learn to wait for them to slip up it is you who'll be caught off guard.”

I nodded again, logging away his advice. Gone were the days where I'd shirk his knowledge in favour of my pride, only to get soundly beaten for it the next match. Now I tried to soak up as much of it as possible. I didn't just want to be good, I wanted to be the best. 

After a moment I stood up, our hour of time expired. Normally it was longer, but I'd shown up late and gotten a scolding for it. 

I picked up my sheathed steel, pulling it over my head to its usual resting place between my shoulder blades. It was almost a comfort now, feeling it there at my beck and call. 

“Prince Trunks,” said Bak. I turned to face him.

“Congratulations,” he offered. I assumed he was referring to yesterday, so I gave a small smile and a thank you.

“Not just for yesterday. You've matured a lot in the years I've been training you for the sword. Your father should be proud. I'm not sure how much I have left to teach you.”

I frowned, confused at his sudden change of tone.

“You could spend a lifetime teaching me and I'd still have things to learn,” I answered. “You're still a better swordsman than me, and I swore I'd train until I surpassed you one day. I haven't gotten there yet.” 

His smile was little more than a twinge of his lips. 

“Perhaps not, Prince. But we don't have the luxury of a lifetime to train with me as your master. With your new status, you have new responsibilities. As the future representative of both an entire species and its planet, greater things will be resting on your shoulders. You may not be spending all your life here.”

“I'm never that far from the palace, or the capitol city for that matter. If anything, I'd be forced to stay closer as time goes on, with new obligations on my royal status as you say,” I said, almost formed as a question.

I could swear I almost saw sadness flash in Bak's eyes for a moment before it was gone, fast enough to be imagined.

“There is a great, wide, universe out there Prince. You may be surprised that your responsibilities take you far beyond your empire's borders.”

He patted me once on the shoulder, and with that, walked off to leave me puzzling over how he meant what he said.

 

\---

 

Dinner was going to have a massive potential to be awkward, and the universe did not disappoint. 

Instead of the regular palace staff, Mom had insisted on cooking the food herself. (Normally, my father viewed that as a servant's or commoner's job, so it was a rare thing.) It wasn't altogether a bad idea, but she'd chosen to make food from Earth this time, as well as she could with a shortage of the specific ingredients she needed. 

When Kakarot would return from there, he'd usually bring back various items and non-perishable foodstuffs that mom requested, as well as medications and miscellaneous other objects. Sometimes they were interesting, most of the time I couldn't fully understand their use or apparent necessity on Earth. 

Most often it was only food that Mom missed, and I couldn't blame her for it. After all, I generally enjoyed sampling the new things she always insisted for me to try. Father himself only seemed to favour the coffee, distrusting anything else that was not normally a part of his diet. (I suspect his former years travelling around the galaxy for Frieza made him avoid consuming alien food if he could help it.)

Since Father and I mostly ate only what we were used to, the foreign food usually lasted a long time with only Mom pecking at it.

I'd met her at the time she'd requested, albeit two minutes late. Father had gotten there just before me, and Mom had brought in the food and laid it out across the table. I took a seat quietly and let her serve us as she insisted.

The meat portions were of a familiar variety, but smaller and cut into thin strips and had unusual spices on them, and the bones were removed. I'd garnered over the years that most people on Earth were less carnivorous than the average Saiyan. 

There was rice on the side, which I'd had a few rare times before. I always found it rather blandly flavoured and difficult to manoeuvre onto my utensil. 

The third item was leaves in some sort of sour dressing. Saiyans did eat greens, but it was generally only served when mixed with something else and the portions would be tiny. 

As a whole, I found the mixture of flavours too unusual to enjoy on a regular basis. Earth food was always decorated with a lot of seasoning, while Saiyans kept it plain and meat was always the centrepiece (and everything was always accessible to eat with your hands, should you so choose). 

Mom seemed to be enjoying her meal though. She was also the only one who chose wine as her beverage. I would drink it only when courtesy dictated, but Father hated the stuff and wouldn't go near it. In lieu, we had water with our meal.

Father had eaten his rather quickly, probably in an attempt to get it over with. I was working on mine slowly but deliberately.

Most of the dinner took place in silence. I was used to the clatter of servants bustling around; none of our family usually ate at the same time so we would just enter the kitchen and request food when we felt hungry. We always ate in a large mess hall reserved for only our family or guests of ours, which was not the area we were currently in. Mom had wanted someplace quiet where we could sit undisturbed, so we were in yet another of the many rooms dotting the palace's vast structure. I don't know what it was originally used for but it was clear aside from us. 

My ears had been ringing for ten minutes to try and replace the muteness around me. Even a small shifting of my chair echoed, so I was forced to refrain from squirming and have the silence become maddeningly obvious.

After what seemed an eternity, Mom gave a small 'ahem' sort of sound, which I wasn't sure how to interpret so I ignored it.

She did it again a few seconds later, a little louder and more insistent, so I looked up at her.

“Uh, thanks Mom. It tastes good,” I said.

“You're welcome, Trunks,” she replied, though I could tell it wasn't quite what she wanted out of me. She was probably trying to initiate conversation, and I had nothing to say. 

She picked up her wine glass, tapping against it with a glossy pink fingernail. A much lighter shade than her lipstick, which was dark enough to nearly match the liquid in her glass.

“So,” she began, trying to fill the silence again, “how did you enjoy the ceremony yesterday?”

I coughed a little before answering. “It was nice. I was happy Goten could make it.”

“That's good, I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. I was surprised, there were quite a few women there,” she said, “even some that looked pretty young.”

I stayed quiet, letting her direct her attention towards Father.

“So, Vegeta, did you get a chance to talk to your brother? It's been a while since he was here last. He, um, I guess he got married since then? She seems nice.”

“I talked to him,” Father replied evenly, offering nothing of his true thoughts. “And yes, it seems he... found someone special.” He frowned a little further in thought.

He was likely still trying to comprehend his brother's choice of partner and failing. I'm sure wherever Gure was from, she'd probably gotten some weird looks for her selection of a spouse too. You'd think our social circle in general would be more accustomed to inter-species couples. 

I picked at my food, almost finished now. I hoped that meant this would be over with soon, provided Mom didn't want to continue to force conversation afterwards. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy spending time with her, it was just... not like this. I was never much for small talk with Father either – or any talk at all. He was usually busy. Our level of communication was infrequent sparring matches and clipped, business-like speech when necessary. 

“So where did you go after the party? I didn't see you leave,” Mom said, directing her question at me.

“I was just hanging out with Goten. We didn't go far.”

She was scrutinizing me like she didn't believe me, she'd set her cup set down and placed all her focus on my eyes. I wasn't sure what kind of answer she was looking for that I didn't provide, and her stare was too concentrated for it to be innocuous.

It seemed I was the only one who noticed the sudden change in mood. Father appeared to be mindlessly toying with one of the metal utensils, bending it into a myriad of random shapes. He was not paying attention.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Mom still glaring at me like she trying to read my mind, via burning a hole in my skull with the intensity of her gaze. What the hell did she want from me?

I picked up my water and took a sip to cure the sudden dryness in my throat. I thought she was going to drop the issue when she suddenly blurted:

“You didn't run off and sleep with any of those girls, did you?”

I choked on my water, trying to disguise it as a cough and mostly failing.

“Mom! No, I didn't – I was with Goten!”

She still stared at me, her mouth pinched tightly.

“I'm serious! What kind of question is that?” I demanded to know.

I wished she would stop giving me that look. I was probably turning red, my face felt like it was burning. No one could embarrass me like Mom did.

I glanced at Father, hoping he'd bail me out somehow. He looked so utterly bored out of his mind I wouldn't be surprised if he fell asleep in his chair. Evidently, he didn't care much for the topic of conversation either, or for the entire get-together at all. His former utensil, now completely unrecognizable, was now shaped like some kind of four-legged animal. 

“There's no need to get so uptight about it, Trunks. You're a teenage boy, and while it's totally normal to feel a certain way, I think you're still too young to start behaving like some sort of philanderer. Even if Saiyan culture says you're an adult now,” Mom said.

“Mom, listen. I swear, nothing remotely like that happened. I was with Goten the entire time. I came home after that,” I said. If I wasn't blushing before, I definitely could feel my face was red now. _This isn't happening, this is not happening._

“Fine, then. But why didn't you tell anyone where you were going?” she asked. 

“Gee Mom, I dunno, maybe because I can take care of myself? I'm not a little kid anymore, you don't have to chaperone my every move. It's not like Father couldn't sense me anyway if you really wanted to know where I was.” I was a mixture of embarrassed and now slightly annoyed.

“Don't take that tone with me. I just worry about you sometimes,” she said.

“And I'm telling you that you don't have to. This is ridiculous, Mom.”

There was a dull thunk in the table interrupting our bickering before my father's voice came to the rescue.

“Oh, leave the boy alone Bulma. He's had enough, and as a man now whatever he does or doesn't do isn't your business. Gods know he would've spilled anything already under your absurd prying.” He had mushed the utensil into some kind of spike and wedged it into the tabletop, which he was proceeding to wiggle back and forth to try and stick it in further without breaking anything.

For once, I was grateful that Father had such a short span of patience. 

“You may think it's not my business, but _I am his mother,_ ” she said. “If it were only up to you, he'd be gallivanting off god-knows-where into space, fighting alien demons ten times his size like some kind of joyride. That is not the kind of life I had envisioned for my only son.”

“I am his father, and I say you're coddling him,” he said, pulling the mangled spike out from the wood. He gave it one final cursory glance before laying it down and crossing his arms, a familiar habit. 

“I am not coddling him. I'm trying to protect him! Have you forgot-” 

She abruptly halted mid-sentence, like someone had poured ice water down her back. Father turned to face her, his dark eyes now stormy. 

“No, woman. I haven't forgotten. This is not a conversation we should be having right now.” He only ever called her woman anymore when he was mad at her. 

“You do seem to have forgotten I'm still here,” I said, seething a little. Apparently, there was something I wasn't supposed to know about, and neither of my parents would so much as look at me all of a sudden. They couldn't care less how obvious it was, they were too busy glaring at each other. 

I ground my molars together, contemplating whether I should demand they just tell me whatever inane thing it was, or leave to go fret over the entire stupid situation in silence.

“I'm done here,” I said as I stood up. The chair scraped against the floor loudly enough to make a statement. I gave Mom another brief thank you before turning to leave.

I heard someone else stand up behind me, but no one followed me out the door.

\---

I wanted to burn off the steam I'd built up on my way over to where Goten was staying. We'd always offered him a place in the palace, but he wanted to keep his grandmother company whenever he was here. 

Gine was a third-class Saiyan, and she lived near the outskirts of the capitol city and worked in food distribution for those away on missions. She'd stopped being a fighter a long time ago, not long after she'd met Kakarot's father who had saved her life numerous times. Bardock, as he was named, had been declared dead for years. 

As the story went, he simply never returned from a mission and was announced to be deceased shortly afterwards, though they never found his body. The grieving Gine would be forever wary of anything to do with Frieza, and our planet's alliance with him made her uneasy. 

She did have another son, Kakarot's older brother Raditz, though it seemed there had been no love lost between he and his mother anyway, as the man was dead.

It wasn't a long flight to Gine's house, but I took my time, stopping to walk some of the way. I used the extra minutes to stew over how unfairly my parents treated me.

Somehow, I'd wound up with a strict father who didn't give a shit and a lenient mother who cared too much. And Goten thought his family was backwards.

The buildings were sparse now, giving way to the tall, natural rock formations. Far enough into the wilderness, one could find crumbling ruins of the last civilization between the heaps of stone, a remnant of a time before the Saiyans had arrived and seized the planet. 

When I first saw the ruins, I'd been disappointed to find mostly clay or dirt hovels barely big enough for the child I was at the time. Occasionally there would be pottery or other household items left behind, but most everything had been cleared out or taken by time. After discovering the place I'd actually hid there once, following a particularly bad training session with Father. I'd crawled into a shadowy hutch, curling up in a corner with some shredded tapestries. The walls and floor were all smoothed, but nearly icy to the touch, and the rags I'd huddling with provided no warmth to my small body. 

I'd waited there for hours, shivering in the darkness and too cold to cry. The patch of light cast from the entrance had moved over the day until it was dim and crimson with the twilight. Father had found me then, coaxed me out of the hole and carried me home. I remember thinking how withered and small I felt, the sunset in our eyes as he flew us back.

I blinked, the memory of that evening faded away into the one of now. I wasn't going as far as the ruins anyway, Gine's house was only a little ways down from where I was.

There were a few homes dotting the area, most spaced a ways apart from each other. I knew which one to go to strictly by memory, having gone there often to find Goten or other member's of Kakarot's family. 

I was walking the rest of the way along and I saw the place ahead on my right, lights inside confirmed that they were there. I crunched across the rocky ground to the entrance, knocking twice just loud enough to catch the attention of anyone inside.

A minute later the door slid open, revealing a petite woman with almond-shaped eyes and hair as wild as Goten's, blinking at me in faint surprise. 

“Prince Trunks!” she greeted enthusiastically, a smile spreading across her face. She showed very few signs of her years – any lines that might be present were only visible when she smiled. The lifespan of a Saiyan was double that of a human's, and as such the ageing process was slower and they stayed in their prime for a much longer period. I had no idea how any of it would apply to a half-blood. 

“Hi Gine. Um, just Trunks is fine,” I said and smiled back. No matter how many times I insisted it wasn't necessary, she would always use my royal title. “Is Goten in there with you?”

“Yes, come on in, he's such finishing up helping me with dishes,” she answered and ushered me through the threshold. The door slid shut behind me with a click. 

Her home was spacious for a third-class, but plain and comfortable. It was finished with earthy colours, decorations were minimal but tasteful. A few pieces of lounging furniture and a couple tables dotted the room I was in, which was the largest. A hallway at the end led off to the remaining areas of the house.

“Goten! Prince Trunks is here,” she called into the house. Goten's voice drifted back across with an 'almost done.' The sound was coming from the next room over, so I didn't see him.

“Congratulations on your ceremony yesterday! My, you look more like the king everyday. I could say the same about Goten and his own father,” she tittered as she moved around, touching up miscellaneous objects with a cleaning cloth. As she often lived alone, she probably appreciated having company and someone to talk to. 

She gave off a vague similarity to my own mother, but there was something gentler and less urgent in her mannerisms. 

A photo of Gine and Kakarot perched on the small table nearest to me. I picked it up, turning it to avoid a glare on the surface of the frame. 

They were both beaming, and I could see hints of a resemblance emerge between them, though Kakarot apparently took after his father most. The camera wasn't a piece of technology native to the Saiyans, so there were no other photos in the house. The one in my hand had probably been a gift. 

“Oh, that. When Kakarot gets back I want him to get one with all of us, including that wife of his,” Gine said. She then turned up to meet my eyes and asked me if I had any family portraits. 

“A few,” I replied. Mom had dozens of her and I from when I was a baby, though the amount of pictures decreased as I aged. It was kind of funny, she'd worn her hair longer when I was younger and shorter now, so having all the pictures in chronological sequence made it seem like it grew backwards. She definitely aged through them, though. Father, however, looked the same in every photo, but that wasn't especially remarkable since there were only about four with him in it.

I set the picture down gently in its place. 

Goten emerged from the back room then, wiping his hands on his shirt. As usual, he was in a black bodysuit, sans armour. It was of a more casual variety, less form fitting than the one designed for battle assignments or off-planet ventures. It was gathered around the waist and ankles to allow for breathing room; there were no sleeves and the neckline was relaxed. My own attire was similar, but a medium blue and I wore a belt. (Most Saiyans coiled their tails around their middle and didn't wear belts, with the exclusion of myself - even though Goten was born with no tail either.) Our boots were standard issue and always the same. Gloves were optional.

“Hey Trunks,” he greeted casually. 

I nodded as a way of acknowledgement and gave a standard hello as he approached. His face had a look of openness, a face that meant he was waiting for what I had to say. He was generally initiating conversation at this point, but I suppose he must have noticed something in my posture or expression, and had decided to let me voice what I needed to first. 

Despite an arrogant exterior that he often displayed (a lot of which I'm sure he picked up from growing up with me), he had a softer side that he most certainly got from his father Kakarot. Until Goten had grown his hair, the two of them had been almost mirror images of each other physically. The apple never fell far from the tree with either of our families.

“Do you wanna go train for a bit?” I asked him, choosing to spare any details of the reason behind my disgruntled mood for later. “If you're done helping Gine, that is.”

“Sure, lemme just check with her real quick,” he said before calling to her from across the room.

“Grandma, do you mind if I hang out with Trunks for a bit? I'll be back in a few hours.”

“That's no trouble, Goten,” she said, making her way over to us. She patted us both on the shoulder and grinned. “Just be back before it gets too late.”

I nodded and Goten verbally agreed before we walked to the exit. 

Once we were outside we took to the skies, he followed behind me as I flew further out into the wilderness, so that our sparring wouldn't be too close to disturb any residents. 

After about ten minutes we eventually landed far enough away to be suitable, and in an area where the rock formations weren't so densely packed together (inevitably, some might get destroyed, it would cause more dust and more injuries should either of us crash into one). I didn't want to go back and train at the palace. I was still miffed at my parents, and I was determined to avoid them until they decided to tell me whatever it was that was so secret.

Goten landed and began stretching; I followed suit and retied my hair again more tightly. Anything above very casual training and it would get in the way.

After we had stretched a sufficient amount of time, Goten turned to face me, bowing briefly before sinking into a familiar fighting stance. The average Saiyan didn't have a disciplined set of techniques or forms, but Goten's roots were how his parents learned to fight on Earth, no matter how much time he spent training here. I was taught the basics by my father, but I'd sometimes trained with Gohan and often done so with Goten when I started, and a few rare times with Kakarot himself – thus my combat methods were similar, when not using a sword. I didn't have it with me now, so I copied my friend and set myself into a ready posture.

He set his brows determinedly, took a moment to size up the situation, and darted forward. 

I was forced back momentarily before I launched a few punches of my own, all blocked effortlessly by Goten and I dodging his hits with equal ease.

We carried on, keeping the fight only to our fists, neither of us gaining the upper hand. We were airborne a few times but only within a few feet of the ground. Dust clouds swirled around us, the dry earth cracking in spots after a few missed attacks collided with it. Goten was matching my pace, hit for hit, me trying to egg him on further by increasing my speed and strength. 

After little results, in frustration I landed a kick to his midsection, creating some distance between us for the opportunity I needed. I flew into the air above him, formed a moderately sized ki ball in my hands and threw it at him. He deflected it with a quick swing of his arm, flinging it into a nearby rock pillar and collapsing the structure into scattered chunks of earth. 

Pebbles began to hover in the air around Goten, responding to his accelerating level of ki, and he launched at me a second time with deadly speed. I met him halfway, this time our blows laced with energy, enough to rift the air with power.

Now fully in the air, the freedom of the open sky enabled our sparring match to manoeuvre across a larger space, accommodating when either of us were sent flying backwards. The both of us were landing more hits on each other; I'd received a particularly focused strike to the jaw that I knew would leave a bruise later. But I gave as much as I got, my competitive spirit eager to get an edge on Goten.

The level we'd quickly risen to was as far as we could go without really taking it to the next step. 

Just as I had that thought, another idea quickly followed, and I couldn't help the sly grin that made its way onto my face.

Goten and I had achieved Super Saiyan at a young age, even younger than Gohan had. However, we had been warned to use it as little as possible unless in a secured training area or in danger, as even though there weren't any Saiyans we knew of stronger than us, our parents (or rather, mostly my father) worried about threats beyond our planet. To our knowledge, it was only the five of us that knew the technique - Gohan, Goten, Father, Kakarot and myself. 

I released the ki I'd been building up and went Super Saiyan, my paranoid father be damned. We were far enough away to avoid notice out here anyway.

The sudden blast of energy sent Goten backwards, a look of shock on his face. Clearly, he hadn't been expecting me to push the match this far. Even though I'd expended energy training with Master Bak earlier, I felt giddy with my own potential at the moment, and I wanted to go all out. 

After a hesitation, Goten recovered and I felt his ki rise again, his hair suddenly flashing yellow and his eyes burning turquoise. He wasn't about to let me outdo him, regardless of the fact that he probably felt more inhibited about abusing our power than I did, and would probably voice his concerns later. For now, he was more focused on winning, or having the match end in a tie. 

I struck first, firing three small, rapid energy balls as a diversion just before I charged at him. He dodged the first two attacks and deflected the third, but was unable to prepare in time for my roundhouse kick that sent him careening into the ground below. He was back up in a second through the dust cloud, wholly focused on me.

It was a pity that we were so engrossed in our battle, otherwise we would have sensed that someone out there did indeed notice the massive pool of energy we were generating, and was on their way towards us.

Though we'd gone Super Saiyan, we stayed aware of our place, refraining from launching anything capable of being seen at a great distance, or anything that could seriously harm either each other or the planet. We fought for only another fifteen minutes or so before we decided to call it off, descending to the ground and letting our energies simmer back to normal. 

Goten's shock-yellow hair returned to its normal darkness and shape, and his eyes cooled to their regular colour. We were both breathing a bit hard, but not in utter exhaustion, and he took a seat on a broken chunk of rock a few feet away. I sat unceremoniously on the ground, propping my arms up on my knees as I released the transformation. 

"That," he panted, trying to gather his breath, "was probably risky. Somebody could have - ..." He'd abruptly cut himself off and turned to look to his right sharply, his posture suddenly rigid. 

Reaching out with my senses, I felt what had him worried: somebody was approaching, and quickly. The ki was unfamiliar and seemed slightly agitated. 

I stood up slowly, Goten rising to his feet as well. A dark shape had appeared on the red horizon, growing larger by the second. Lowering our energy now would do no good, unless we chose to try and hide or make a run for it, which I doubted would be successful in this landscape.

I would probably be recognized the minute the stranger was within proper seeing distance. It was a fair guess to say that I was probably the only person in Saiyan history with this hair colour. Even without being seen in person, word about me had been travelling since I was born.

I met eyes with my friend for a brief moment before we both locked our gazes on the sky, awaiting to confront whoever this person was.


	3. Chapter 3

The flying spec had clearly become a man, and in a matter of seconds he had slowed his flight path and landed softly on the ground a short distance away. The slowly waning light made it difficult to focus on his face, but as my eyes adjusted I knew that seeing his face or not would make little difference, as his physique would be easily spotted in a crowd.

The man was exceedingly tall, more than a few heads over Goten and I. He was muscular but lean, made more evident by the fact that his upper body was bare, save a golden chest-plate centred with a clear blue stone. The sun refracted off of a set of gilded arm bracers and a diadem, each also set with the same foreign gem. A red sash was tied around his middle, draped over white pants and held in place by a heavy belt that matched his other accessories. His hair was long and tossed over his shoulders, and his face was utterly placid as he stared at us with narrow, half-lidded eyes. 

He seemed very docile for one of our kind, and I wasn't sure whether that should make me tense or at ease. He probably lived further out into the wilderness than most people and was simply wondering what the ruckus was. Considering his clothes as well, he probably spent most of his time on some other planet and stayed away from Saiyan society. 

His left hand appeared to be holding something, another moment of observation and I determined that it was a broken scouter. He must have been somewhat close by when we transformed, then.

His eyes were moving slowly between the two of us, eventually stopping to rest on Goten. I could almost see the wheels grinding in his head, but judging by the blankness of his stare, he wasn't getting to any conclusions fast. The silence was broken only by the occasional sound of the wind. 

“Do you need something?” I asked the stranger. My voice came out a little more harshly than intended, but he seemed unperturbed, blinking sullenly as he faced me.

“What are you doing out here?” he said. Even though he was looking at me, he could've been addressing either of us. His voice was surprisingly soft of tone when compared to his physical appearance. 

“We could ask you the same,” I replied before Goten could say anything. 

After another long moment of the man's non-response, I considered the fact that he somehow might not know who I was, and therefore wouldn't immediately back off when I implied for him to do so. If he really did spend most of his time on another planet, it was a feasible prospect.

Unless he really just didn't care. But the slightly glazed look in his eyes suggested there may be another reason entirely for his behaviour.

“I... live around here,” he answered eventually. 

“There isn't much around here to live on,” said Goten. “We've been out here before and never seen you. But it's a big planet, I suppose. You don't seem like you're home all that often, either.” He nodded at the man's garments. 

“Perhaps,” said the stranger, but then seemed to decide internally that what he'd said was somehow too much information and he closed up. “You should leave. It'll be nighttime soon.”

I thought about it, and then considered that we were two Super Saiyans, and he was one person with a power level on par with average. He couldn't force us to leave, but it's not like we had some important reason to stay for it to come to battle. Plus, there had to be some reason he was staying out here, regardless of what he was accustomed to, and Goten and I knew that our families weren't the only ones capable of disguising our true abilities. 

I decided it was best not to make a scene.

“We were about to be on our way,” I said. 

The man nodded once, but otherwise stayed still, eyes back on Goten as if he was trying again to solve his confusion that had been evident a few minutes ago. My friend seemed unnerved by the staring, but didn't mention it as we readied ourselves to fly back home.

Two feet into the air and the tall man spoke after us.

“You, with the dark hair. Have I met you before?”

Goten looked back, and after a perplexed moment shook his head no. The stranger made a small sound to himself, then said nothing more. 

We took off into the sky at a speed over our usual pace, wind buffeting our hair back. I watched the man on the ground shrink as we gained distance, but he never moved from the spot we'd left him at. 

“What was with that guy...” muttered Goten rhetorically to himself, echoing my own sentiments. 

We stayed quiet for the rest of the flight, Goten turning off before I did to return to Gine's. He offered a nod in goodbye before he veered down and away, vanishing quickly in the direction of the third-class housing area. I figured it was about time for me to go home myself, I was tired after sparring and the rush of the unexpected Saiyan confronting us in the middle of nowhere. 

I never did tell Goten what was bothering me in the first place.

 

\---

 

Nothing unusual happened for a while after that. I seamlessly transitioned back to my usual timetable, resumed my speaking frequency with my parents like I wasn't still curious what they were hiding from me, and trained per the rules (i.e., no Super Saiyan or mention that I'd used it). For about two weeks, things seemed back to normal. 

Then a council member went missing, only to be found dead a few days after – and practically on our doorstep. 

He'd been found during a change of guard, crumpled in a heap like he'd been struck down in that very spot. An autopsy revealed that this wasn't the case, based on what little I gleaned from hearsay.

I hadn't yet seen the body, but I saw Father's face after he visited the medical ward to confirm the dead man's identity. In recent years, Father's temper had cooled off somewhat, but it seemed that late events had been pushing his buttons more than usual, as when I passed him in the hall he looked utterly dark, straining to control his frustration. It probably didn't help that there was an attendant chattering away at him, trailing behind like a buzzing fly (whom Father looked about ready to swat). 

Neither men had given me a second look, so I decided to refrain from asking them any questions and talk directly with the coroner.

Walking briskly down the corridor, I considered that the doctor might be hesitant to let me see or discuss anything, if under Father's orders, but then I wondered who really had the jurisdiction to deny me information or access. 

I was a prince, for fuck's sake. I could do whatever I wanted.

Passing the first and largest area of the medical ward, which had a low degree of activity, I arrived to find that the coroner, a woman, was still in the mortuary room, shuffling through a stack of papers inked with boxes and handwritten script. A male assistant was seated with his back to the door as I entered, but I gave the coroner a start when I walked in, causing the man to quickly look up.

My eyes quickly flickered to a veiled body on a tabletop, but moved back to the woman's when she started to speak. 

“Oh! Prince Trunks, you startled me.” 

She was over six feet tall, but gangly, and her face was dotted with freckles. Her hair was to her waist and braided at the bottom, shorter layers sticking out like quills. None of her hair was greyed, but years were definitely beginning to show on the lines of her face. 

Her assistant was proportioned directly opposite. He seemed young, and he was only a little shorter than I but bulkier, a combination of muscle and fat. His hair was cut only an inch from his head, a tame style for most Saiyans. He gave us both a quick once-over before turning back to his desk, effectively shutting us out with his posture. 

“Sorry. I just wanted to know what happened. I heard that's a dead council member under there,” I said, gesturing towards the body with a nod.

“That there is. We've been looking at him for the last three hours. King Vegeta was just here demanding information. You seem to have the same idea, it's almost like you're related or something,” she said wryly. “I suppose I'll have to give you the low-down too, since you came here for it... My name's Ruta, by the way, pleased to officially make your royal acquaintance. This guy over here is my assistant, Aiga.”

I wasn't sure where the borderline between sarcastic and rude crossed each other, but at least she wasn't walking on hot coals around me like some people did. And she seemed surprisingly forthcoming with information, rather than the stringency I'd expected.

Ruta walked over to the table, pinching the bridge of her nose between a forefinger and thumb with one hand and waving me over with the other. 

“Alright, let's get this over with. So this – wait. Have you seen a corpse before?” she asked as I took my place across the covered body from her. I shook my head no. Already, I could smell a distasteful odour from the prone shape in front of me.

“Not in person,” I answered.

“Well, just to give you a fair warning then, it ain't pretty. As far as cadavers go, he's in fairly good shape, but it can still be a bit of a shock. Wouldn't want to assault your, _ahem_ , cultured sensibilities without telling you first.”

“It's fine,” I said bluntly.

She nodded once and pulled down the sheet to the man's waist, revealing the pasty corpse to the light.

I kept my face schooled, but I had to resist the urge to cover my nose. 

“This is Councilman Gumel. Or was, I should say. He was dumped within walking distance of the palace's north side, a guard noticed him during the change of shift early this morning. As you can see, there's a number of lacerations on his arms, sternum, face and bruises on his neck. Somebody choked him, but didn't finish the job that way. Both his wrists were broken, and all the fingers on his right hand. There's also evidence of blunt trauma to the head – here – though none of these wounds are lethal.” As she spoke, she pointed to each are in question, ghosting her fingers just above the skin.

Ruta raised the lifeless wrist with her gloved hand.

“Likely, he was tortured – burns on his wrists from tugging on restraints. There's some on his ankles too. Ultimately, his cause of death was courtesy of a paralytic substance, which we found traces of in his system – his diaphragm wouldn't work, he probably suffocated. He wasn't dead that long before we found him, either, there's little putrefaction occurring at this stage.”

“He was poisoned?” I asked. Saiyans were naturally proud warriors, poisoning was a rare method to use regardless of your opponent. Most considered it dishonourable, nearly on par with suicide. 

“Yeah. We're still working on identifying the toxin, as it's nothing native to planet Vegeta. Paralytics aren't terribly difficult to acquire though, so as of yet there's no way we can trace it to a specific planet of origin. It's actually quite similar to muscle relaxants used in medical procedures, though the affected person would still be able to feel pain.”

I nodded in understanding, trying to soak up as much information as I could despite the sheer amount of it.

Ruta pointed to the corpse's hand. 

“See the dirt under the fingernails and the wear and tear? He was clawing at the ground at some point, so he probably wasn't kept in a building the whole time, rather somewhere in the wastelands or underground. With how most of the world is, that doesn't do much to help us find the hideout of his killer, but it's a start.”

 _The wastelands..._ A thought crossed my mind about the strange man I'd encountered two weeks ago. Did two new events always connect to each other automatically, or was I getting paranoid too?

I dismissed the idea after a moment. There wasn't enough of anything on my end to relate a brief incident that didn't quite line up, as far as the time frame went.

“If he was tortured, I suppose it follows that somebody wanted information from him. Based on when he disappeared and when the body was found, I guess they got what they wanted pretty quickly,” I said.

“Perhaps. But that's not all of it. It's a little odd, if you ask me,” she replied.

“Odd how?”

“Well... If you want to get away with murder, one of the things you do is hide the victim well, or make it impossible to identify the body. Scar the face, burn off the fingernails, dispose of the teeth. You want to avoid leaving evidence of yourself on the body as well. Not only was Gumel left in the open for us to find, whoever did this wanted it known as nothing was done to conceal the body's identity – and he was placed where he would easily be found.”

I nodded. “So someone had a personal vendetta against his allies, or his family?”

“If you want my opinion, this was a political statement. Gumel was a good man. One of the few council members known to be truly loyal to your father and the good of the people, not looking for power. No offence, but you aren't really in the know yet for who you can or can't trust. You just lost one of the people you could, and the killer is probably trying to intimidate the remainder of your father's allies.”

“And the murderer is suddenly deciding to act now? Why would somebody be trying to alienate my father? He's the king.”

“That's just it. Regardless of how patriotic Saiyans can be, not all of them agree with your father's decisions. Or _his_ father's, some people definitely have some enmity for how the previous king handled his power. One bad move can set off a whole chain of consequences, and they can last through generations.”

I pursed my lips, not sure what to make of it. 

“Regardless of how long I've been doing this, I'm just a doctor. I'll leave the rest of the investigation to better hands. Now that I've gone over all this for the second time, I really need to get working on filing this for the records,” she said, covering the body once more. She straightened up and turned her posture away, muttering to herself.

I took that as my cue to leave, a politer version of _you can get the hell out now, I'm busy._

“Thanks for the help,” I said as I moved in the direction of the door. 

“Don't thank me. Just doing my job, your highness.” 

I left without further ado, mulling over the data I'd been provided. Saiyans died all the time, but less often on their home turf. It was usually the result of reckless behaviour or accidents on Frieza's military assignments. If Gumel's death was just someone's personal grudge against him, would the extra measures the killer had taken (or lack of them) really be necessary? Would there be any more bodies to follow?

I wasn't sure how much of this was my business, but I had confidence that Father's tenacity would have the truth uncovered eventually. 

 

\---

 

In the following days, little headway was made into solving the murder. No other unusual deaths or missing persons were reported, and though the investigation continued it lost vigour as time went by and nothing turned up. 

Gumel's position in the council had not yet been replaced, but a new representative would be brought in eventually – as soon as Father decided it was needed.


	4. Chapter 4

It was a lot harder than one might think to find a single, measly pair of scissors on Planet Vegeta. I knew Mom had a pair somewhere to maintain her own pixie cut, and I'd had my own too before I'd accidentally snapped them underestimating my Saiyan strength. A plethora of knives, swords, and various deadly weapons could usually be found within arms reach, and yet not a pair of fucking scissors for me to use.

These were my grumblings as I stood in front of a mirror, tying up my long locks into a ponytail. If I left them loose, they were prone to matting due to their thickness and my frequent physical activities. I'd inherited a strong sense of cleanliness from both my parents, though evidently my genetics favoured my mother's side in the hair department. Most people were used to seeing the unusual shade by now, or were too polite (or wary of my social status) to mention it. Goten did well to avoid teasing me about the colour anymore, after a sound beating I'd given him a number of times over it. 

A Saiyan's hair never grew from the day they were born, excluding facial hair on men. If a Saiyan's hair were ever cut, it would never grow back. Gohan, Goten and I were the only exceptions to this rule, as half-breeds any choice we made about how to wear it was always temporary. My own poker-straight tresses seemed to grow like a weed, and I was never sure whether I resented or appreciated this aspect of being half-blooded. 

For now, it appeared as if I'd need to go borrow Mom's pair of scissors. If I asked her for them, she'd probably offer to cut my hair for me too, which usually wound up looking a lot more decent than if I did it myself. Half the time, she'd tidy it up anyway after I'd make a mess using the blades on my own. Nobody else every cared how it looked as long as it was clean, though Mom would complain when I cut it too short. I was picky about letting anyone else do it, even though I could very well ask a servant it wasn't like most people here had experience cutting hair. 

Mom's usual haunts were her tech lab, the docking bay where she would fix spacecraft in need of repair as a hobby (I'd sometimes help her tinker with the machinery), milling around the greenhouse, or her own private room. 

Though my parents did have a shared bedroom, they didn't always use it. Father would sometimes crash in one of the empty, spare rooms, which were small and plain but served as a quiet retreat for sleeping or just being alone. I think his previous life as a soldier may have made him uncomfortable with the designated king's bedroom, though this was where he slept most often now as far as I knew. There had been less moments as of late where he would be noted absent and later found asleep in random quarters.

Mom had her own specific, separate room, which was mostly personalized with selective decor, half finished tasks and various other possessions. It was on the same floor as both mine and their conjoined bedroom, though it wasn't the original location – the floor we all used now was practically abandoned in my childhood. If Mom was working on a project, she would usually sleep in her private room. Or if she was really pissed at somebody and wanted to be left alone. 

I wasn't sure if I should seek Mom out first, or just make a quick trip to her room to grab what I needed. My lesson with Bak had ended early, so I had an extra slot of time to work in to find Mom first if I so chose. Then again, she probably wouldn't care if I took care of things myself as long as I didn't snoop – which I had no interest in doing – and returned the scissors. I decided on the latter option, and made my way in the direction of the familiar staircase that would lead me to the level I needed. 

Two long sets of stairs later and I was walking along a familiar hallway, which was somehow even quieter than usual, which was saying something considering the only other people who came up here besides family was the occasional cleaning servant. The area had a feel of being unaccustomed to a person's presence at this time of day, dust motes being uprooted earlier than expected, and a few swirled visibly in front of my eyes. My boots made little to no sound; the floor was too solid for even the most muscular frame to perturb it.

I passed my parents' shared room and my room, moving with purpose, but when I got within earshot of my destination I was alerted by voices. Not the expected singular set of vocals that I would assume to be the only one to ever come from her room, but paired with a male voice. Father's? 

It had to be him, even though he never went into her personal room for any reason. No way any other man, myself of course exempted, would ever risk such stupidity – Father had beat people within an inch of their life for less. 

A cautious reach of my senses confirmed the energy signatures belonged to Mom and Father. I knew the latter, even if distracted, might sense me when I got too close, and it would be suspicious if I suddenly suppressed my ki just outside the door. If they were talking in there, they must not have wanted to take the chance of being overheard anywhere else.

I continued back the other way for what seemed like a good enough distance, almost all the way to my own room, before shrinking my energy signature next to nothing and creeping back around. 

There was no guard in the area; usually they were near the staircases, but I hadn't seen any even then. The entire level appeared devoid of anyone but the three of us. 

Out of habit I double-checked my surroundings to see that I was alone. Then, I crouched near to the wall, but not directly outside the door, and pressed my ear to the metal. I had to concentrate on nothing else but their voices before the indistinct muffles started to form words.

“... - ... we have left... - ... expect me to... - ... him go? I won't... - ...” It was the softer tones of Mom's voice. She spoke quietly, making it difficult to understand more than a few words, but when she was upset she either whispered or shrieked, there was no in-between. She was probably trying hard to avoid the second option. 

After a short silence a deeper voice responded, my father. He talked louder, so more of what he said was comprehensible from where I knelt.

“Frieza... - ... aware somehow. I received the message... - ... did not ask for him... - ... there within a month.”

Mom stayed very quiet at that. I noticed I was holding my breath, my heart beginning to pound a little harder at the mention of Frieza. I had never actually seen the warlord, but I knew full well of his reputation and the connection he held with the Saiyan race. We were some of his loyalest soldiers, albeit he was notorious for his severity when it came to his army, and particularly towards our species. He was the man in charge of the Planet Trade Organization, which my father once worked for directly.

If Father – the man who turned to stone at the mention of Frieza's name – was bringing him up willingly, then the conversation must be serious. I needed to hear this, but I wasn't getting much from my current position.

I wondered how close I could get without alerting my father's six sense. Call me overly cautious, but I'd tried to sneak up on him before and it never worked. Ever. It was like he had eyes on the back of his head, or could see through walls. Even with my ki reduced to almost zero, there was no way it could disappear completely – someone with very finely attuned energy perception could pick it up, provided they were searching for it and close by. My father was one of those people, and he could be paranoid as hell when he was in a mood.

Against my better judgement, I inched closer two or three steps. Part bravery and part stupidity, but I came by it honestly. If their subject of conversation hadn't been so taboo I probably wouldn't have risked it. 

“What are you going to do?” I heard Mom's voice, finally.

“I'll go. I'll take a one-man pod, it'll be faster that way. I can be there and back before those trouble-making bastards know I'm gone. I'll settle things with Frieza. Don't worry.” 

Father never honestly told anybody not to worry. He couldn't care less about protecting other people's feelings most of the time. Mom must have been really shaken up, or else Father was trying to reassure himself by reassuring her. Both options were equally bad.

My stomach had been slowly plummeting over the course of the conversation, as the severity started sinking in. It seemed Father was going to visit Frieza personally, which he hadn't done in a long time by my estimation. There was more to it, too – but I'd only caught the tail end of what had been said, and was left with only more questions. 

Father said something else to Mom, but it dropped to the level of a whisper so I didn't hear it. She replied in an equally low voice, and everything was quiet after that until I heard footsteps move for the door. 

_Shit._ Had I been discovered, or were they just leaving? In a few seconds it wouldn't matter, because one or both of them were going to step outside and see me crouching there, not conspicuously at all. 

I rose up halfway, still partly hunkered over in an highly untimely display of indecision. If they caught me, I'd be lucky to get away with a few broken bones and a long session of yelling. If I wasn't lucky... I preferred to save my imagination for a means of escape. 

Whirling around, I took off down the hall as fast as I could go without employing ki, and as quietly as I could manage without flying. I wished grievously that I knew Kakarot's Instant Transmission technique. 

Storage closet on the right. First hiding spot available. I ducked in without reservation, barely fitting in the narrow space. The door slid shut in front of me and I was cast into darkness. 

The haste with which I'd used to unceremoniously shove myself inside the recess left me positioned awkwardly, but I didn't dare move more than an inch. I was so close to the wall that my breath was bouncing back at me; I shut my mouth and willed my panting to slow to an even rhythm. 

My heart was beating so loud it must have echoed right through the walls. I seriously worried that Father might actually notice it. At least he didn't have hearing like the Earth-Namekian, Piccolo. 

I waited there for a long time, anxious to hear steps outside my hiding place. My arms and legs were stiff from being stagnant so long. 

They never even walked by; after a while I realized that they'd probably gone the other direction. I hadn't been found out.

I breathed a sigh of relief and shuffled my way out, extending my arms above my head once I was free of the cramped space. Luck had been with me, thought I'd probably still wind up with a kink in my neck, courtesy of the supplies taking up more room in the closet than I did. 

I made my way off, choosing the direction arbitrarily as there were descending stairways on both ends of the level. I hadn't heard enough to satisfy my curiosity by a long shot, but it was a start.

 

\---

 

I though I was in the clear for about a day until a foot-soldier approached me with a message. 

I had been seated in the alcove that was the library, perusing through a book on a great war of Earth's history, detailing the invention of a nuclear weapon of titanic magnitude (rather interesting, albeit heavy reading). 

It was more a collection of books than a full-scale library, really, a small room dedicated for the private enjoyment of mostly only myself. It had been made at Mom's behest in the first place, so a great deal of the volumes were in her native language, which I'd been taught to read and write from a young age, but I usually only spoke it to the Son family who spent the majority of their time on Earth. Mom had brought most of the books herself or requested them from Kakarot or Gohan, since the second was an avid reader. 

We Saiyans did have our own written language, but most of us weren't much for reading. There was an official hall of records for public access, but little interest was generated to the activity beyond that. 

The room had three desks and two chairs, all of the former and one of the latter being stacked full of books. One wall was lined completely with shelves, but Mom or I never bothered to organize it. I doubted Father had ever set foot in the place, except to locate Mom when she couldn't be found elsewhere, and since neither Mom or I were as meticulous as he, it stayed chaotic. 

There were non-fiction novels of more technical subjects, like engineering, biology, physics, mathematics, encyclopedias, space, everything under the sun you could need for research. There were a few fiction volumes as well, and even some old kid's books of mine, but they remained untouched in a corner. Mom was a certified scientific genius, so a lot of the volumes were hers or pertained to her interests. 

Mom often came off as loud or shallow, but it hid her striking intelligence .She'd told me once that when she first arrived, the strength of the gravity had been unbearable for her, so she'd had to devise a serum for herself to withstand the force of the pressure after attempts with other methods. She'd also designed and crafted ships easily capable of interstellar travel when the rest of her planet had next to no idea that alien life even existed. Oddly enough, most residents of Earth were apparently unaware that there was something outside their blue and green sphere. 

I'd been to Earth once, but I was so young that it was little more than blurry memories of green foliage, and something big and blue as far as I could see. We'd never went back since then, though Kakarot did take Mom for a visit sometimes by herself. Father wouldn't go, and he wouldn't let me go, and I'm not sure that Mom quite forgave him for that.

I heard the door swish open and shut, distracting me just enough to stop scanning the page, but I didn't quite lift my eyes from it.

“Highness. Your father wants to speak with you.” 

My stomach twisted a little, but I stayed composed and set the book down open before looking up. “Did he say what he wanted?”

I was blinking in surprise a moment later when I took in the soldier's appearance, not quite sure if I was looking right. He was nearly identical to Kakarot, though on closer inspection his skin was much darker and his voice was a heavier tone. His posture was bowed in respect and his eyes were somber, not at all like Kakarot's. 

I recalled hearing somewhere that the genetic diversity was lower among the third-class, but it was still unnerving to see in person. 

“No, sir. He only told me to bring you to him. It wasn't a request, so I assume it's important,” the man said. 

He stood up fully, shifting his weight. He was about the same height and build as Kakarot too, but his mannerisms were markedly different.

“... Alright,” I said. I made an effort to mentally shake off my surprise and the fact that my stomach was slowly making its way up to my throat.

I stood, stretching my legs a little to alleviate the creeping stiffness. I left the heavy history volume where it was and moved for the door. The soldier moved ahead of me, leading the way out and down the corridor as I didn't know where father would be. 

We descended down a flight of stairs, heading for the first and lowest floor. The library was on the second – and mine and my parent's bedrooms were on the third. Floor one was the largest, and the majority of daily activity took place there; it spanned over hundreds of rooms while the other two levels had a dozen between them.

The first floor was fairly quiet. We passed a few servants and armoured guards, neither group giving us a second look. Footsteps echoed in the distant corners of the palace, but a subdued air followed us as we made our way to what I assumed would be the throne room, based on our current direction. 

I was proved correct when we reached the place, my Not-Kakarot guide slowly moving to open the leftmost door of the pair. 

The entryway was taller than two men if one stood on the shoulders of the other, and the doors themselves were made different than the rest of the ones in the palace. They were old wood, not a native material to the planet, sturdy – but not sturdy enough to withstand the untempered strength of a Saiyan. As such, they were mostly for decorative purposes and few were allowed to use them (separate doors existed for those who were not). They were wrought with a few ornamental pieces of iron, and as a whole they contrasted with the alloy construction of everything else. However, their very dissimilarity echoed the prestige they were meant to represent. 

People, soldiers and other elite alike, were milling around the room. There were only a couple dozen, maybe, but the way they were spaced out made the long room seem more full than it was. Most of the Saiyans were lined up on the sides, but a group of five stood near the foot of the throne, blocking my view of where I knew Father was seated.

The apparent leader of their group had been talking, but he fell quiet when he heard the door open, courtesy of my entry. There wasn't much to be distracted by in the sparsely adorned room, so everyone had been concentrating on the droning verbosity of the speaker as he made his case to Father. Now most of them were looking at me and Not-Kakarot. 

“Prince Trunks is here, your highness,” my guide spoke clearly enough for his words to reach the king.

The group of five ahead parted enough so that I could see Father, who wore a frown (more prominent than his usual, anyway) set deeply enough that it must have been there all day. His scowl lifted a little when he saw me; he was probably glad since my presence meant he had an excuse to be free of his royal indenture and unwind the intense displeasure of his facial muscles.

“Good, Turles,” said Father. His eyes flickered to the group leader who'd been talking. “We're done here.” 

The leader's face made like he was thinking about protesting, but then thought better of it and started shuffling away dourly. His four allies followed suit. 

“The rest of you, too. Get out,” Father declared, not angrily but with enough force to make them move a little quicker than normal. He gave a nod to Not-Kakarot – Turles – and the man exited with everyone else, leaving only Father and myself in the commodious hall.

Once everyone had left, I was made aware of the vacuum of their presences. I didn't like being in large crowds, but I didn't always like being the centre of attention either.

Father stood up, descending down the couple steps from the raised platform where his throne sat. It was not a particularly large or imposing seat, but it was distinct from the benches or chairs common everywhere else by its size. It had probably been lessened into something more basic from the days since the previous king.

I'd never met the last King Vegeta, my grandfather. He died before I was born and father hardly talked about him anyway. It was a sensitive topic, but not as sensitive as asking about Father's mother, whoever she was. Where Mom was open when speaking about her parents, albeit sadly nostalgic when they came up, with Father it was like trying to chisel open a rock. Tiny pieces of memory occasionally chipped off, but then that rock wound up bowling you over for invading its privacy and you learned to avoid doing anything to piss it off in the future. 

Father walked in my direction until he was three feet away, arms crossed and looking me up and down like he was internally calculating something, then:

“I'm going on a trip. You're coming with me. We leave the day after Kakarot arrives.” 

I blundered out a lame and quizzical noise as a response, my mind kicking into a higher gear to process what I'd just heard. 

“Uh, what? Where...” I stuttered.

“To see Frieza. He wants me to visit him in person, and it's high time you saw beyond this planet for once, so I'm taking you to him as well.”

I flashed back to my eavesdropping escapade yesterday, confirming that while it was indeed what I was expecting to be the subject, the angle was entirely different. Evidently, Father wasn't aware of my listening in. I was simply grateful that I was not being punched into the ground for spying on private conversations.

And apparently, for only the second time in my life, I was going to leave Planet Vegeta.

“You mean I – we – we're going to another planet?” I asked.

“Not quite. We're going to one of the PTO's main outposts, which is currently orbiting another planet, but we will be remaining on the space station. It's a fair distance from here.” 

I was a little dumbfounded, to be honest. While Mom was okay with me going to Earth, Father was the main reason I'd seen so little of the cosmos so far. Now he was willing to take me with him to a distant imperial post to see Frieza, of all things, and this had come out of nowhere. 

I didn't understand, and it must have showed because Father took a breath to explain when I made no move to ask questions.

“You're wondering why I'm taking you at all,” he stated. I nodded once when I was still unable to come up with the words myself.

He crossed his arms, shifting his weight slightly before replying. I heard the barest sounds of his armour shifting with the motion.

“You're an adult now, and you've been sequestered to your home world almost your whole life. I'm surprised you've stayed relatively content about it so far, neither Bulma nor I are patient so it was only a matter of time before you acted out on your own. We aren't capable of keeping you here forever, are we?” It was a rhetorical question. 

“It may seem easy for you to judge our decisions, but there is something I want you to understand first: when I was a little boy, I worked in Frieza's army with people four times my age, driving whole planets to extinction, before I was mature enough to understand the reasons why I was made to do so. I killed people for a living.” He closed his eyes briefly in recollection before opening them again. 

“Being a child soldier is no life, and it doesn't make a good man. We didn't want that for you. I wanted to give you something I didn't have... for as long as I could. Those halcyon days are ending now, but I believe you are strong and capable enough to face what comes next,” he finished.

I was in pause, unable to think up a proper reaction. I think it was the most honest compliment I'd ever received from him, if that is indeed what it was intended as – it was sometimes hard to tell with him. I probably wouldn't get anything like it again, but _holy shit_ , I was too happy that he was finally going to trust me with something. _After all this time..._

“So this... I really get to leave home,” I said, speaking it out loud to make it seem real. I involuntarily cracked a smile in my new-found joy. “I'm finally leaving home!”

A palpable emotion crossed behind his eyes, but I couldn't identify it because his gaze was focused on a random point to the left. If I didn't know any better, I would've thought he was purposely avoiding looking at me, but I quickly buried the thought as old paranoia. 

“When is Kakarot going to be here? I mean, it's been a while, Goten will probably be happy to see him,” I asked. “Is anyone else coming with him?”

“Your mother requested him earlier today. Gohan and the Namekian are planning to come along this time as well; it may take another day or two for them to gather anything they may need,” Father said.

Two days. Two days at most and was off this desert rock ball. And I'd get to see Gohan before I left, for the first time in a long while. He had once been a sort of mentor, helping me perfect and develop my battle techniques as a kid. Of course, he was on Earth much more often than Goten, and my bond with the youngest Son had grown to be the stronger of the two friendships over time. Nonetheless, I'd be happy to see Gohan and catch up. His own mentor, Piccolo, was coming too, and I wouldn't complain about having the alien's infrequent company either. 

I broke from my reverie, returning to the present. I could hardly believe that things were finally going to change. 

My happiness was probably obvious through my change in posture – and the fact that I couldn't quite get rid of the little half-smile on my face. 

“I... thanks, Father,” I said, meeting his eyes. They were dark and stolid as usual, but it was only natural that he wouldn't be terribly excited, right? This wasn't some life changing first adventure for him like it was for me.

I had the sense that I could leave now, but I was about to turn to go his voice halted my movements.

“Trunks. I want you to lie low about this. Don't tell anyone you're going with me.”

I was already facing away, but I turned to look at him. He was still impassive, waiting for a solid _I'm-not-going-to-brush-this-off_ kind of answer. By the set of his jaw, he was going to make me confirm my silence one way or another, so after a moment I nodded my affirmation. I could gloat over my new experiences when I got back; staying quiet for now was a small price to pay.

I very nearly jogged out of the throne room, barely noticing that my father remained standing exactly where I'd left him, frozen in thought.

My mind was tumbling over itself in excitement as I emerged into the outer hall. I had never been told I could have anything else in my life besides what was right in front of me, regardless if I wanted to reach for the stars. And now that the opportunity was a tangible thing, something I could hold within my grasp as being more than a fleeting thought, I wanted it bad. 

My life had been a resignation to a cage, offering only a limited view of the world. But dawn was on the horizon, freedom from being left in the dark among crumbling stones and the tenuous strings of royal blood that kept me tied there. 

Only a few more days, and I could spread my wings.


	5. Chapter 5

In the early hours of the morning – not long before dawn and almost two days after I'd spoken with Father, I was awoken by the distant presence of a very powerful, but familiar ki. It almost overshadowed two other energy signatures that appeared alongside it, but when I jolted myself awake they became clearer. 

Sunrise wasn't far off, but knowing Kakarot, he'd forgotten that our daylight hours might not match up, and _where_ he was supposed to show up too. He was probably in the middle of nowhere, scrambling in the dark until he managed to focus his Instant Transmission a little closer than his first guess. His current accuracy was several kilometres off and I'm sure at least Piccolo was chewing him out already. 

Kakarot could use the ki of anyone he knew as a pinpoint, though he was apt to use Father's ki as it was the largest of those here. Hopefully aiming closer didn't mean within a few feet of space. Nobody wanted a certain short _and_ short-tempered Saiyan to get pissed of – not that Kakarot's presence didn't piss him off regardless. 

Kakarot could also use mine or Goten's ki, the other strongest energies on the planet. Or maybe even Mom's, since he was familiar with hers too, even if she wasn't a fighter. They'd become close during their time on Earth, long before either of them ever knew about Planet Vegeta. It was a friendship that went as far back as his childhood and Mom's teen years. 

I sat up out of bed, blinking in the dark as I tried to adjust my vision, but quickly gave up trying. There would be nothing to see anyway unless I turned the lights on, which I'm sure would scorch my eyes out of their sockets in my current state. It wasn't more than a few hours before I normally woke up, but I guessed my sleep would be getting cut a bit short.

I slowly tugged the blankets off, my body temperature cooler than usual from sleep, and the nighttime chill wouldn't dissipate from the air until the boiling sun got to it. Wobbling onto my feet, a little off-balance in the dark, I moved over to the wall where my clothes were stored. 

I fumbled my hand around until a drawer slid open at my touch, presenting fresh clothes. I pulled out a set blindly and the compartment closed, recreated the wall's illusion of smoothness (save for the outline of the drawer, which wasn't yet visible in the blackness). 

I could dress myself blindfolded, but having my sleep disturbed made me clumsy and I took longer than usual to change. Not to mention that I'd apparently withdrawn one of the more form-fitted body suits, which were actually a highly elastic and durable material but was trouble to adjust in the dark. Some Saiyans preferred the simpler, black shorts and armour on top, but I leaned more towards the conservative side and kept most of my skin covered. Goten would joke that Saiyans never cared to leave much to the imagination.

Once I'd finished struggling with my clothes and fitting on boots, I manoeuvred over to where I'd casually thrown a pair of clean gloves the other day. I felt around the desktop where they'd been left until my fingers brushed the soft material. Though mine were a higher quality than most, all our gloves shared the same deceptively silky feel, and were actually very useful for protecting your hands. My palms were less cut and calloused than they would've been otherwise. 

I slipped the gloves on while deciding to leave off any armour for the time being. As there wouldn't be any reason for me to need it right now, I chose to forgo it. 

The narrow, horizontal slit of a window was still dark. In the time that I'd spent dressing, Kakarot's, Gohan's, and Piccolo's energies had moved closer, but were still out of the city limits. I could either fly out to meet them or signal with my ki to let them know it was okay to come to me. 

_Perhaps I should just wait for Father to decide for me._ His ki was situated somewhere else in the palace – not close enough to be his bedroom – so I assumed he'd fallen asleep in a different place yesterday. That meant Mom would be dead to the world for another few hours unless he felt inclined to wake her up. (I didn't count on it.)

I wandered over to the wall near the doorway, reaching for the controller that operated the overhead lamp. I placed my finger on the touch panel and adjusted the dimmer, letting the light emerge in a slow fashion lest I inadvertently blind myself. I let it bleed through my eyelids for a minute before opening them. 

The familiar grey floor and walls greeted me, and the clothes I'd selected at random were revealed as plain charcoal in colour. My vision was framed with messy hair; I ran my hands through its length as I walked over to my adjacent restroom. 

Cold water felt invigorating on my skin, fully awakening me. I cleaned my teeth quickly, keeping my morning routine to the basics before leaving. My jaw still felt smooth, so I didn't have to worry about stubble (facial hair wasn't quick to grow on me, due to both my age and Saiyan genetics). I gave myself one final look in the mirror before I passed it on my way out.

I could feel that Kakarot, Piccolo and Gohan had moved much closer, down to the main area on the first floor of the palace in fact. Father was there too, so he'd probably gotten there first and had them follow his energy signature. 

Down a few flights of stairs and weaving my way through hallways, I could feel their energy draw closer until I was walking into the same room. 

The three newcomers were collected close together, but their physical size made the group seem larger. Father faced across from them, addressing Kakarot, who seemed happy to oblige in conversation. 

Kakarot and Gohan wore typical armour sets, and including their travel bags seemed out of place amongst the people I was used to being around. Something in the softness of expression I didn't normally see in a Saiyan, particularly when Father stood with them to compare. It was the first time I'd seen them in enough months to have to adjust to how they looked now. Actually, it was mostly Gohan who looked different. 

Gohan, while he was taller than his father, was also predisposed to being leaner, but now he looked especially so. I assumed he hadn't been training much in the time since his last visit. The gap from the time before had left a less dramatic impression of change. Though he still had some muscle tone, he appeared small next to Kakarot and Piccolo, though his eyes were lively as ever. He was the one who spotted me first when I came in.

“Trunks!” he called, a smile breaking on his face. On cue, the other three turned to look at me and I waved. 

“Long time no see!” I called back, walking over to greet them. “Can't decide if your timing's improved from your last visit, though.” I spoke to them in their home language, though I barely noticed the automatic switch.

The average Saiyan spoke a mixture of our traditional tongue and the Galactic Standard, but most of us were implanted at birth with nanotechnology that allowed us to verbally communicate in most languages. Mom had copied and developed one on her own before I was born, although that still meant I had to learn to read from scratch. 

Kakarot laughed, sheepish but returning to his usual demeanour when I got close.

“Hiya Trunks! Wow, you got bigger since the last time I saw you,” he said, waving a hand in the air to gesture at my height. I'd been growing closer to his height; I was maybe five centimetres shorter at most. It was a peculiar feeling, standing almost eye-to-eye with one of the most powerful people I knew.

“I, uh, I guess so,” I said, mimicking a habit of Kakarot's and rubbing the back of my neck.

“Keep growing and you'll be taller than me! So, how have you all been here?” he said.

We made small talk, with Gohan occasionally interjecting a few words. He'd given me a friendly hug, and at that I could definitely tell he'd lost weight. Kakarot had ruffled my hair nonchalantly as a hello. 

Father and Piccolo gave each other a nod that must've been some code for stoic people to communicate greetings. They stayed mostly silent, but not in an awkward way – at least, not as awkward as Gohan was when I asked him how Videl, the person I knew to be his partner, was doing.

“She's uh, fine,” he said stiffly, offering next to no information besides his unusual tone. I ignored his hesitation, sensing there was something he didn't want to talk about there, and asked about his training instead.

He brightened up again, but seemed a little embarrassed.

“Ah, well, I haven't gotten around to it as much lately. Work and all, you know how it is.”

I definitely didn't know how it was, but Gohan spent so much time on Earth now that he might have forgotten that. I'd only heard about his 'normal' life from Mom, Goten, or textbooks. 

“Where are Bulma and Goten?” asked Kakarot. 

The youngest Son's relationship with his father was not as strong as Gohan's; he didn't expect or crave the same degree of interaction as his older brother did. Hence his complacency about seeing his father right away.

“Goten should be here soon, I'm sure he knows you're here. Mom is...” I trailed off and looked at Father to answer.

“Asleep,” he confirmed.

“Asleep? I should go wake her up before Goten gets here,” said Kakarot, a cheeky grin emerging on his face. He set his bag down, and gestured for Gohan to give him one of the two he was holding.

“It has things Bulma wanted me to bring her,” Kakarot explained as Gohan turned it over. “I'll just give it to her now.” 

Before anyone could suggest otherwise, Kakarot had put two fingers to his forehead and vanished. Father looked like he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the other man's antics.

When Kakarot wasn't in battle, he moved like he hadn't a care in the world. Truthfully, I could never quite get a read on him. As powerful as he was I sometimes wondered if he acted clueless on purpose to disarm people. When faced with an opponent, a determination overcame his expression that was entirely contrary to his normal self. It was like someone flipping a switch in his brain. Mom speculated that instinct was all he had mentally to tie him to his heritage, what with his childhood brain injury rewiring his psychology. 

Either way, he was not the type of man to keep secrets and he wouldn't hurt a fly. He would, however, indulge in rough sparring sessions with whoever would agree to one.

I turned to address Piccolo for the first time, although I wasn't sure what to say. The hulking green man, for lack of a better gender specific term (he was from Namek, after all), had remained silent but watchful. 

“You came too,” I said, half a question and half a polite greeting. 

“I'm here on Gohan's request,” he stated bluntly.

Gohan had been here before without Piccolo, but I left the thought at that for now and nodded. 

While Saiyan teeth, as Mom put it, were 'a little too long and a little too sharp to be normal,' Piccolo's set were blatantly fangs. The needle points were noticeable whenever he spoke. Everything about the Namekian was razor-like, and he stood out everywhere he went, due to his size and unusual garments. Not to mention his brusque mannerisms, an intense contrast with the rest of his species (most of who were gentle pacifists). Perhaps his only soft spot was his protective, almost father-like nature he displayed with Gohan. 

Gohan seemed grateful for Piccolo's presence; he wasn't the only one out of place. Kakarot could care less if he stood out, Gohan was more timid outside his home environment. It was difficult to tell when Piccolo felt uncomfortable. 

Kakarot reappeared in an instant, pouting and rubbing his face.

“She slapped me,” he complained, making Gohan and I laugh a little. 

“How was I supposed to know she'd freak out? It's not like I was trying to sneak up on her,” Kakarot pouted. Father's only response was shaking his head in an I-told-you-so motion. 

“What say we go get Goten instead of waiting here? Bulma's mad at me for surprising her, I can come back when she won't hit me again,” Kakarot said. “Goten is at... my mother's, right?” 

The man clearly still struggled with the concept of having his own parental figure, and treated Gine with cautious, but friendly interactions. 

Father called to one of the few guards on the premises, instructing him to take the bags to another room. The closest soldier complied and made his way off to the next floor. 

Kakarot extended an arm, and we all placed a hand on him except for Father, who declined by shaking his head. 

“Come back here when you've finished,” he said before turning to leave us be.

Kakarot put two digits to his forehead again and suddenly we were in the desert. A small line of light was on the horizon, signalling dawn was not far away, and Gine's house was a dim shape in the morning dark. 

I could feel Goten's ki was there, and he was wide awake, already alert to our presences. Gine was awake too, but Goten emerged first and beckoned us to come inside. 

Kakarot reached the doorway first and pulled his son into a bear hug; they both grinned from ear to ear. If it weren't for Goten's hair and the small height difference, they'd be twins. Gohan was next, joining in on the embrace before Kakarot pulled away and the two brothers could hug separately. 

We all moved inside where Gine waited, who was ecstatic to see her son and oldest grandson. After another few bone-crushing hugs between family, she greeted me as well as Piccolo. She seemed fascinated to see the Namekian, but withheld her curiosity for another time. 

The room became a bubble of conversation, everyone exchanging smiles and more small talk. I gave Goten a light punch to the shoulder as a way of greeting, and he returned the gesture in kind. He looked sleepy still, but happy; even when Gohan was telling him how much Chi-Chi missed him he stayed cheerful. 

Gine managed to hustle us all into seats, offering tea which everyone accepted. The drink was plain, but warm, a comfort in the left-over chill of the night.

When we were all comfortable Gine began peppering the air with questions, mostly aiming them towards her son. He didn't mind, though he let Gohan answer for him sometimes. They shared the same, expectant look when listening to someone's questions, though it was clear that Gohan also had some of his mother in his features. 

My own mother, while I'd taken her colouring, had given me none of her features. I looked like Father – all sharply defined edges, but not harsh enough to be unattractive despite the intense natural expression. Father's belief, contrary to that of everyone else, was that I looked more like Mom. I didn't care much either way, accepting my unconventional (but far from plain) features as they were.

When Gine was done thoroughly investigating the recent life of her son, apparently satisfied, she prodded Gohan next. I assume she didn't want to bother Piccolo when she didn't know him well, and Goten had already filled his family in with the details of what he'd being doing here while they were away.

Gine had chosen to take the topic towards Kakarot's partner again.

“Oh, you know, Chi-Chi's always the same,” answered Kakarot. “She wants to know when Goten's gonna come back.”

On cue, everyone looked at Goten. 

“I'd like to stay for a little longer, if you and Mom are okay with that,” he said, unperturbed.

Goten would stay here for long stretches at a time before taking brief visits back home. He'd been doing this for as long as I could remember, and I never complained. My mom and Gine became second mothers to him, and even Father didn't mind his presence. Back in the day Gohan was here more often with him too. 

Kakarot gave a cheery okay, clearly not minding his son's decision. 

“You really like it here, huh? Probably because Trunks is here. Ever since you were little, we knew you guys would be friends,” Kakarot said.

“They played together before Goten could even read,” said Gohan. “Two of the spunkiest kids I ever saw. Trunks used to bite whenever someone that wasn't Bulma tried to pick him up.” 

“He didn't do that to me, although both of them would try to wriggle away,” agreed Kakarot. “They liked to sit on my shoulders though!” 

Goten and I grinned at the memories we had of tormenting Kakarot. When we grew into a more independent stage, we chose to torment each other instead. We were troublemakers and we only had each other to play-fight with; I don't think Father ever did much besides hold me at arm's length. Gohan would hang around with us the days that he was here.

We continued to talk and reminisce over old times, even Piccolo spoke up on a few occasions. I felt happy, I felt at home, I hoped Gohan did too.

After a while, we bid Gine farewell for the time being. Mom was probably awake and she'd want to see Kakarot. After a few hugs and a promise to bring Goten back later, we were whisked back to the palace via Instant Transmission. 

More activity was present now than earlier, the bustle of daytime beginning. More guards and servants moved around, largely ignoring us aside from a few who recognized my presence respectfully. I was used to that sort of thing, and I wasn't expected to return any acknowledgement in kind. 

We waited in the antechamber like before, Goten complaining that he still wasn't as tall as his brother, and after a few minutes father returned with Mom in tow. She was done up as usual, looking nothing like someone who'd woken up a few hours early. 

“Gohan, you're here! And Piccolo!” She ran to greet them, wearing a genuine smile. To Piccolo, she offered a handshake; though he seemed slightly flustered at the action he accepted it anyway.

When she moved to hug Kakarot, she hit him in the chest first. 

“Think before you barge into a lady's room next time, Goku,” she chastised, but softened a moment after. The embrace that followed was tender enough to make Father scowl, but no worse than his usual reaction to something annoying. 

“So,” Mom said, “Goku's probably already eaten several times today, but how about some breakfast?

 

\---

 

After a filling breakfast and some downtime to rest it off, Kakarot was raring to spar with father. They agreed to do so outdoors, while I led the Son brothers with me to the training arena. Mom and Piccolo followed us, as when Kakarot and Father fought it could get a bit blustery, and there wasn't really a place to watch from outside.

The red sky overhead was clear as usual when we entered. Planet Vegeta was hot, but it was a milder day despite the glaring sun, and a pleasantly warm breeze flowed in. 

Mom and Piccolo started towards the benches while the Sons milled around the arena's centre. I headed for the weapons cache, a small recessed section on the side, as I'd left my sword in my room. 

There were plenty of regular blades for me to choose from in lieu, and I selected one at random. Aside from a few possible nicks, they wouldn't be strong enough to seriously hurt a Saiyan unless I forced it, so I wasn't worried about accidental dismemberment. I double-checked the sword's balance before stepping away with it, spinning the steel in a show of bravado. 

“Alright, who wants to go first?” I called into the arena, voice echoing a little. 

Goten already knew how to defend against my blade well, but not only was Gohan out of practice, he was unfamiliar fighting me with more than fists. I wanted to challenge the older half-blood to demonstrate my improvement, if not to show up Gohan altogether. I hadn't truly beaten him yet. 

“Trunks, I swear to god, if you cut off anyone's body parts with that you're grounded,” came my mom's voice from the sidelines. 

“When has threatening me with that ever worked?” I retorted back, smiling, not looking in her direction. I could feel the beginnings of adrenaline stirring, fighting always made me cockier than usual. 

“Don't worry, I promise I won't beat up Gohan too bad,” I said. I pointed the tip of my sword at the half-Saiyan. At my words, the corners of his mouth turned up, and I knew he'd accepted the challenge. 

“I distinctly remember you saying that last time before I handed your ass to you,” he said. “You really think you have what it takes this time?”

Goten had a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, patting his brother on the back before walking in the direction of the benches. 

“Good luck,” Goten said, and I took the words to heart though I didn't know whom he'd been talking to. 

Gohan offered me the first move, and so we sparred.


	6. Chapter 6

Gohan often subconsciously tried to parent me, and Goten as well. It may have been a side effect of his own father's carefree attitude towards child-rearing, or maybe he just took after his mother a lot in the nurturing department.

Even if he meant well, it could still be annoying sometimes.

“I'm an adult by Saiyan law,” I tried to explain, “and even though Goten isn't yet, it's not a big deal. We've been hunting alone for years.”

One of the few species native to the planet, and left wild, was a kind of large and spiny desert lizard. They had two front legs and a long, snaky body covered in spikes, and they came above ground to each large insects or each other. They were no match for a grownup's strength, but they were slippery when it came to capturing them. Their skin was the same shade as the rock and their bites were poisonous, so the issue was accidentally stepping on one or having it wriggle back underground before you could grab it. If it did bite you, the affected muscle would be sore and the bite itchy, but only for a few days.

Saiyans, reckless as we were and doggedly carnivorous (I'd heard stories of some that ate intelligent alien species), found it good sport to hunt the things sometimes. Mom thought they were repulsive, so Goten and I as kids had made it a game to bring her dead ones. Much to Mom's chagrin, Father had informed us they were edible, and we made a habit of retrieving them when we felt like a different meat flavour. 

Goten had had the bright idea to go catch one or several for our midday meal, since we hadn't done so in a while. And of course, since I would be leaving for a while soon, and I wanted to make the most of my last day here. 

I knew Goten was smirking at me before he spoke, even though I didn't look at him. 

“You know we can take care of ourselves. The worst that could happen is Trunks gets heatstroke and falls victim to a mildly inconvenient lizard bite,” said Goten. It had never actually happened to me yet – at least the heatstroke part. 

We'd all cleaned up from our sparring earlier, changed into fresh clothes sans armour, and our group had met up in one of the private lounge rooms. As far as Saiyan tastes went, it was luxurious, because the long couches were low to the ground, large, and padded. They were large enough to recline and stretch out on, lie down on, or sit criss-cross as Kakarot and Piccolo were doing. The cushions were a deep maroon, supported on a sturdy metal frame, and the setup curved around in two semicircles that left a pair of gaps on opposite sides. 

Even Father was there, setting aside any kingly duties of his for the time being. He and Mom and I were sipping black coffee, as Gohan had brought grounds on mom's request. The caffeine wasn't strong enough to affect my biology, so it was just a comfort beverage, despite the bitter taste. 

I'd guzzled mine in under a minute, ignoring the minor scald I'd given myself, and set the empty cup on the floor in front of me. Goten sat to my right, and Gohan to his brother's, and Piccolo across the gap to my left. My parents and Kakarot were on the other half of the semicircle across from us. Kakarot on one end, Father in the middle, and Mom about two feet from Father's left. He looked disappointed that she'd chosen to sit away from him.

Father was never affectionate with Mom in public, but he didn't mind doing so in smaller groups or around familiar people. He would sulk in silence when she rejected his efforts of fondness, as she was doing now. He wasn't soft with anyone else so I guessed it bugged him when he lost the chance to relax his guard. 

“You're just miffed because I won our match. Admit it,” I said to Gohan. I was not beneath gloating in front of everyone.

“It doesn't count as winning when you cheat,” he said.

“It's your fault for not guarding your vulnerable areas better. Besides, I didn't knee you that hard – and it was only revenge for comparing me to a grape, which are green by the way. And technically, I'm your superior in rank. Highly disrespectful,” I said.

“ _Technically,_ ” he retorted, mocking my tone, “Mom's the princess of the Ox Kingdom, so that makes me and Goten princes too. And there's purple grapes, genius. Your argument is invalid.”

“Fine. We're still going hunting though. I think everyone here agrees we should ignore your motherly instinct in favour of good food. Well, I guess you might find some sympathy with Piccolo,” I said.

The Namekian, of course, had no opinion on food – he didn't need anything but water to survive. He didn't even sleep, just indulged in meditation sometimes. I had access to research archives from which I pulled information on his home planet, even though he'd grown up on Earth. There was constant sunlight on Namek, courtesy of the three stars the planet shifted orbit around, though I dared not ask if Piccolo's green skin meant he photosynthesized. I doubted that was true anyway, even if the embarrassing thought always lingered. 

“So, just Goten and I then?” I said, rising from my seat. My friend followed suit, and Kakarot gave us a wave and a chipper 'have fun!'

With Goten in tow I headed off for one of the supply rooms on the lowest floor. It wasn't an unusual sight to see Goten following me around, so once again we were paid no mind. His registry as a citizen was dubious, so as long as he was with my family or never had to access the central mainframe, no one questioned him. One of the perks of his anonymity was that he couldn't be drafted for PTO missions. 

When we reached our destination, we entered the room and passed the armoury, which was the largest section. At the end, there was the station for tech – we needed scouters for communication purposes with each other. As I could detect ki on my own, I rarely used a scouter, so the times I did use one the lens in my vision felt obstructive, despite its small size.

There was one other person in the room with us, who looked to be exchanging a broken set of armour for a new one. Most Saiyans used the equipment depots attached to the ship ports for their needs, so only palace staff came in here.

“Ah – Prince Trunks,” the man said as I fixed my scouter on. “If you are planning on leaving outdoors, I would not stay out too long. There have been reports of a sandstorm on the horizon, due in a matter of hours.”

I turned the scouter on, scrolling through until I located the general alerts feed. There was indeed a weather warning, among other arbitrary notifications for public viewing.

“I see. Thank you,” I said to the man. I briefly considered if Goten and I should be bringing protective armour. _Nah. We'll be back before the storm picks up._

On an afterthought, I took two pairs of gloves from a compartment and handed one to Goten. The less dirty we came back, the better. The shower I'd taken after sparring earlier wouldn't be a total waste. 

“Take care. You too, third-class,” the man said after us as we left. Most people in the palace were aware that I sometimes fraternized with lower level citizens, and one certain person in particular. It was knowledge to every Saiyan who knew anything more about me than just my name.

The exit door led us down a long hall, the end of which opened to the building's exterior. Though I'd done it countless times, there was always a small butterfly of excitement in my stomach when I left the palace. Especially when faced with the freedom of the great outdoors. 

The endless red sky greeted us as we stepped out. I took a deep breath – the air was dusty and hot, but it was familiar and I liked it. The indoors were often temperature conditioned and smelled cold and metallic. 

I activated the communication line on my scouter. “Is this working?”

Goten flinched at the loud feedback from his earpiece. “Ow. Frick. Yes, it's working. I'm standing right here, jackass,” he said, muttering the last part under his breath and shooting me a dirty look.

I chuckled under my breath and we ascended into the sky. I subconsciously checked for the weight of my sword as I left the ground, even though I knew I didn't have it with me. I did it before I went anywhere, regardless of whether I was taking the blade, as it had become a habit. 

We flew in silence, far enough that we needed the scouters to talk to each other. Neither of us said a word until we passed the city's limits, until we were out above the desert. With the buildings retreating behind us, the sounds of activity faced and there was only the wind in my ears. 

“Trunks,” Goten said, interrupting the lull in a serious voice. It had a slight electronic tone, courtesy of the scouter. 

“What?”

“If you had a tail, would it be brown or purple?”

I gave an exaggerated sigh. “If you were given a brain, would you ever consider using it?”

“No, really. We all have black hair, right? Except for you. I mean, the tails are brown, but because you're half human, couldn't that, like, mutate it or something?”

“My question stands, Goten.”

“You're no fun. No fun, no tail, and you have weird hair. This is why girls don't talk to me when you're around.”

“Once again, a Son brother seems to forget his place – and the fact that he has no tail himself. Girls don't talk to you because I'm obviously better looking.”

“Please. I don't think I've ever seen you with a girl who isn't your mom.”

“Goten?”

“What?”

“Screw you.”

“You wish.”

“Ha ha. Cute.”

I knew him so well that I no longer needed to see his face to guess his feelings. He would be doing that coy, yet clever half-smirk with only the left side of his mouth. Even when he was trying to be a prick, or even determined, his expressions were always soft. It was something he shared with his dad. 

“But on a serious note, I need to ask you something,” I said to Goten.

“Oh, are you finally about to profess your undying love for me?”

“Real smooth. I just said it was on a serious note.”

“Alright, jeez. Keep that up and you'll be uptight as Vegeta.”

“Don't say that – I hoped to have a few more years before I wind up with a stick that far up my ass. Anyway, though, I wanted to ask you about Gohan. Is there something up between him and Videl? Did he even say anything to you?”

“Not really,” he replied. “If you want to know you'll just have to ask him. I doubt Piccolo will tell you anything – neither will my dad, at least intentionally. But if you want my opinion, I don't think any of us are very relationship savvy. It's probably just trouble all couples have, with a dash of our crazy family bullshit mixed in. I doubt Videl started the relationship knowing her partner was half alien.”

“I suppose there's bound to be something that won't fit when you mix biology like that,” I replied. “I mean, human and Saiyan genes work together physically, sure. We're proof of that. But... don't you ever feel confused?”

“I'm not sure I follow.”

“Well – cultural differences aside, our two species still aren't the same. Our instincts are different. Your dad grew up on Earth, but his Saiyan ancestry made him stand out, no?”

“I guess. I can't say a lot. I mean, I'm not super close with him or anything.”

Some parts of Father's and Kakarot's biology, the things that seemed perfectly ordinary or logical for them to do, were incompatible or frowned upon by humans, according to Mom. Among our warrior race, family in the traditional sense did exist, but the term 'marriage' didn't. There wasn't even a word for it in our native language, and polyamory was not uncommon between adults. It was encouraged, in fact, because we didn't have a high population, and despite our comparatively long lives we often died in conflict rather from age. 

It wasn't that Saiyans had no concept of love – but physical attraction and compatibility alone were considered reason enough to have children with someone. Considering there weren't even half as many females as males in our species, a stricter lifestyle would make less sense (women often had their pick of partners anyway). 

My mother and father had a strong bond, but it was built over their years of finding common ground with one another. I doubt there was any kind of deep affection at the beginning of their relationship – I know I wasn't planned. Regardless that they had their troubles, it was obvious now that their bond ran further than those that I saw from the Saiyans around me.

“Still with me, Goten?” I asked.

“Yeah. Just thinking.” He'd gone quiet after his last comment while I'd been lost in thought.

I thought he was going to stay silent when he continued talking, in a shy voice.

“It's just... I don't think Gohan appreciates how close he is with my dad. Even if my brother is barely a Saiyan anymore, he's still strong even when he doesn't train. I never really know what to do when they visit here. I mean, I love my family, but Gohan's always been their golden boy, you know? No matter if he succeeded as a human instead of a Saiyan. I thought Dad would like me because I didn't give up my Saiyan side, but he still likes Gohan better. They barely even try to get me to come back anymore.”

“That's... I don't think that's true, Goten,” I said.

Kakarot treated everyone with the same level of respect, and it often came across as valuing family as much as strangers. To be honest though, it did make it harder to guess if there was indeed favouritism somewhere. 

“People sometimes just don't connect as easy,” I continued. “I don't think it's because your dad cares for you less. Or your Mom, for that matter.”

“Easy for you to say. Your father might be harsh, but he's proud of you. He's actually there, you know?”

“Being here is a far cry from being here for me. Sure, he's physically been around for most of my life – but it's not like I'm close with him either.”

“I guess,” he said after a time, sounding unconvinced. “Anyway – this topic is getting a little heavy. All this chatting and there won't be any time to get lizards before the storm hits.”

“Right,” I said. “Sorry.”

“For what?”

I didn't answer.

 

\---

 

Goten and I had split up, agreeing to call each other after a designated time limit. 

Like they could sense the approaching storm, the lizards were being difficult to catch, most of them staying below the surface. So far, I'd only gotten one and a half. The other half had been blown off on instinct when the second lizard had lashed out at me. Therefore, it was as good as only one, because I wasn't going to carry around the lesser fraction of a corpse. I think I had a few specs of its brain matter left on me from the impromptu disintegration – disgust my biggest catch so far.

Goten was probably fairing better. Clumsy as he could be, he was adept at the whole silent sneaking-and-pouncing bit. I'd learned that about him the hard way, before I'd been good at sensing ki. 

It was difficult to tell how much time I'd wasted, as I hadn't bothered to check the clock on my scouter when I'd started. I scowled into the sand, having laid the fruits of my hunt on the ground. 

While thinking, I scratched my cheek, repulsed to find that my glove was tainted with a green, mucous substance when I pulled it away. Lizard blood. I tried wiping it on my pants, but it would suffice to say I just made another spot dirty. 

My scouter bleeped quietly in my ear then. That meant another lizard was nearby. _Might as well make use of the time I have left._

I crept towards the source of movement detected, lifting the carcass I carried where needed so I didn't make noise. I could spot the small dust being kicked up a few rock pillars away, and I set my dead lizard down for good. 

There was no wind, so the live reptile wouldn't catch my scent prematurely, even if I could smell its own from this distance. My boots made soft sounds as I tread in gentle, small steps towards my intended prey; I was half crouched and took slow breaths. 

I could see the tip of the creature's tail, whipping through the dirt. It was digging a hole, not an unusual activity for its species, and distracted enough for me to get quite close. The beginning ridge of its spine came into my vision and its rhythmic scratching noises were the only sound other than my heartbeat.

“Hey Trunks,” Goten's voice said loudly in my ear and I flinched. The lizard caught wind of my movement and slithered away in the blink of an eye. 

I sighed in an exaggerated way. “Yeah?”

“You almost done? I have three and it's getting annoying dragging them around.”

I scowled some more. “I have one. I would've had two or three, except one blew up and one got startled and ran off thanks to you.” 

“Oh. Sorry, I guess?”

“Looks like you're king of the castle today. Just don't tell anybody how rusty I am when it comes to hunting.”

“Alright, I won't tarnish your oh so precious reputation. Anyway, I think we should head back – can you see that on the horizon?”

“Yeah, I see it,” I agreed.

Blotting out the dividing line between the sky and the earth was a narrow, brown daub – like a long smudge on a painting. The wind where I stood was still, but there was often no physical precursor to warn of a storm before it got too close anyway. Saiyan eyes, thankfully, were sharp and could spot any storm at a safe distance.

“Yeah, maybe we should -” I halted my words, a sudden thought occurring. I was by myself, with only Goten to hear me. We were too far for the channel to be picked up in the city, and windstorms often scrambled the signal. 

My father would have no way of knowing if I told Goten of our plans. 

“Is something wrong?” I heard my friend's voice ask, questioning my prolonged silence.

“No – no, it's not that,” I hesitantly replied.

I chewed the inside of my cheek, the last part of myself waging war against the rest that wanted me to spill the beans. Goten was like my other half, and just up and disappearing without telling him seemed like a betrayal. 

“What's up then? You wanna head back, or...?” he probed.

“Uh, yeah, but – there's something I want to tell you. I might not get a chance to say it later.”

“Ooookay?”

“Well – I -” _This was it._

“I'm leaving tomorrow,” I blurted. “Going away with Father somewhere for a while. He wanted to keep it quiet, but I thought you should know. Don't tell anyone else.”

“Wait. What? Where are you going? For how long exactly?”

“Um, we're going off-planet. For a few weeks. It's something to do with the Trade Organization and he wanted me to go with him.”

“Off-planet! When's the last time you got to do that?” 

“I know. Kinda came out of nowhere, to be honest.”

“And the PTO? That sounds a little ominous.”

“Yeah, I guess. I can't remember the last time Father went to see Frieza.”

“Whoa, whoa – Frieza? Does your mom know about this?”

“... No.” Having eavesdropped on my parents' conversation, I was pretty sure she only thought Father was leaving. 

“Well, then you should talk to her before you go. And I'm not just saying this because she'll have my head when she figures out you told me. I mean, I appreciate the gesture of friendship, but she will literally strangle me,” Goten said.

I couldn't blame Mom for being too protective sometimes. I was her only son, and it was made doubly worse during her strange miscarriage of a second child a few years ago. Most Saiyans used artificial incubation for their children, rather than natural birth, but mom had chosen not to, for both me and my unnamed sibling. After the the event, she'd clung to me like I'd slip right out of her fingers and her life if I strayed too far. 

“I don't know. I wasn't even supposed to tell you,” I said.

“Well, why did you then? You've cursed me with the burden of forbidden knowledge!” he said dramatically.

“You would've had social withdrawals if I just took off without telling you,” I said in an attempt to maintain the light shift in mood.

“Who, me? No, I'm glad I finally get to be rid of you, taking up all my free time and shit.”

“You always have free time. Come on, you know you love me.”

“Stop being smarmy and let's just get going. Do you want me to come to you?”

“We can meet up in flight. I can sense you, I don't think you're far. The storm isn't though.”

“Alright. See you in ten,” Goten said before going quiet.

I slung my kill over my shoulder and ascended into the air, taking note of the storm's position, and then focused my trajectory towards home. 

Several minutes later, I could see Goten speeding through the air a little ways behind me. I slowed my pace and allowed him to catch up. 

When he was level with me, he turned to say something but gaped at me instead. 

“Holy shit, what's on your face? Is that lizard guts?” he gushed.

“Probably. I kind of grabbed one awkwardly and it was gonna bite me. I blew it up on reflex.”

“Gross. You have some in your hair too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah... Hate to break it to you, but green and purple isn't the best colour combo for you.”

“Just when I though I could go places with my innate talents for fashion. Thanks for shattering my dreams, Goten,” I said, lacing my words in sarcasm.

He grinned at me. “Glad to be of service. At least you don't dress like Gohan on his days off.”

When we landed back at the palace, we made straight for the kitchens. The staff weren't fazed at our request, though a few of them were casting looks at my dishevelled appearance. If Goten's already shaggy hair, completely wind-tousled and full of dirt, was any indication of the state of my own hair, then I wouldn't blame anyone for staring. 

“I'm gonna hit the showers,” I said to Goten. He nodded. 

“Catch up to you later,” he said, going in the opposite direction. He was going for the palace's washing rooms, while I headed back to my private quarters to clean up. Perhaps it was prudish, but if I didn't have to use the same facilities as a dozen other people, I wasn't going to, no matter how inconvenient the extra walking might be. Goten (like his dad) wasn't particularly modest, so he didn't care where the hell he washed as long as it got him clean. 

The one downside of heading back to my room instead was going through the halls looking like I did. The only people who'd chastise me for my mess were those I was close with – otherwise, guards and staff wouldn't say a thing, so I didn't care. 

Walking with purpose, I turned a corner and was surprised to see a familiar face in front of me. 

The scarred man I'd seen at my ceremony weeks ago filled my vision, and I blinked in surprise. 

“Hello again,” I said to him. He looked down at me (he was a fair bit taller than myself, and his gaze had traces of contempt to go with it) and wrinkled his nose. 

I remembered then that I was covered in reptilian brain matter and body fluids, and felt a small sense of satisfaction at offending the Saiyan elite. Most were pompous anyway, and coming from the perspective of the prince that was saying something. The few times I got to abandon propriety around them were rewards. 

“Good afternoon, prince,” he replied in a poorly subdued grimace. “I apologize, but I must be on my way.”

“Are you here on business with my father?” I asked, still blocking his path. Technically, he couldn't walk away until I dismissed him, no matter how busy he was. Doing so would be highly disrespectful – I didn't often get to abuse my royal status for the hell of things, and I was in a mood to banter a little. I didn't like the look he'd given me, even if I was rather unkempt at the moment. 

“You could say that,” he said. “I can see you've been... involving yourself with the activities of the commoners.” He looked me up and down with his one good eye.

“You know how it is, even royalty needs to indulge in lesser pursuits on occasion. Such a recreation might present more difficulties in someone your age, though, so I understand your disdain.” I crossed my arms like Father would. I'd taken a formal tone, as I always did when speaking to elites. 

The man's lone eye twitched in irritation, but no scathing reply followed. He knew better than to say any direct discourtesies to my face. 

“What was it you wanted to see my father about? He's quite a busy man, maybe I can help you,” I offered in feigned politeness.

“My apologies again, your highness, but this matter concerns the king and I alone.” I could tell that my mere presence annoyed him, even if I hadn't been covered in animal blood. 

“I'm going to be king one day. I'm no longer a child, and oughtn't I gain experience for the responsibilities I will shoulder in the future? How important is this matter anyway, that the prince is unfit to hear of it?”

“When that day comes that you are king, I will answer to you. For now, if you are indeed a man, you will understand that important matters should be left to those fit to handle them,” the man replied.

I pulled a small glob of green blood from the ends of my hair and flicked it at the ground. It landed on the edge of the man's boot. 

“That's a shame,” I said. “I hope Father can provide you with more assistance.”

I walked around him and off to my original destination, trying not to smile wryly. 

A few minutes later, I passed Not-Kakarot in the hall, whose name for the life of me I couldn't remember, but I didn't give him more than a peripheral look. Whoever he was, he cast me little more than an equally brief glance as he went by. 

Later, in the shower as I contemplated the day's events, the pleasantly scalding water wasn't distracting enough for me to not consider Goten's words. I'd told him I was leaving, against Father's wishes – would telling Mom really do any harm, when I'd already broken my promise of silence?

I'd already made myself clean – the water draining out was as clear as the water coming in – but I wanted some extra time to mull over my decision. I wondered, if I didn't say anything, would Goten? It wouldn't take long for Mom to figure out I'd disappeared as well as Father, and it would take her even less time to guess he'd taken me with him. I didn't know if she was aware of when exactly Father was planning to leave, but gauging how angry she'd be, didn't matter either way.

If I was going to tell her, it had to be soon. Very soon. Knowing Father, he might want to leave anywhere from when everyone first went to sleep to first thing in the morning. _Perhaps I can talk to Mom after dinner, or before it. Will she approach Father on it after I reveal the truth? Or can I try and convince her not to? Will she agree to act as if she knows nothing, in exchange for my honesty?_

I turned the shower off and squeezed some water from my hair. After dinner might be better. If she acted strangely, Father would definitely suspect something. 

As I towelled off, I came to a final decision. I'd tell her – she couldn't stop me from leaving, anyway.

 

\---

 

Everyone was reunited that evening for the food. Even Piccolo attended, more for the sake of friendship than anything else. He could technically eat for pleasure, but opted only for tea that was offered to him. Gine had come too, seeming shy to be in the palace and in Father's presence at first, but warmed up soon enough with Goten and Kakarot's encouragement. 

Including what Goten and I had caught earlier, there was a lot more food than normal. Excluding Gohan, who'd gotten used to eating with far too many manners, all the Saiyans at the table had made it their business to try and eat more than everyone else, like some sort of contest. Which, I suppose it was, because everything was a competition when you put Father and Kakarot in a room together. 

There hadn't really been talking during the eating, so all the conversation got rolling once everyone had had their fill. We relocated to the adjacent lounge room (of which there were several throughout the palace) so we could all sit comfortably and digest our meal. Even the advanced Saiyan metabolism demanded rest sometimes. 

Goten had eaten more than me, but for once I hadn't bothered to try and one-up him. I was reclined on the couch, laying on my back, not caring how much space I was taking up. This place was designed in the same pattern as the one we'd relaxed in earlier, so there was plenty of room for everyone to sit however they'd like. Goten was taking full advantage, his head hanging over where his legs should be, and a goofy but contented grin on his face. He was a foot away from where I was. 

A servant had brought in drinks once we'd entered, and by the way Gohan was eyeing his brother, he thought the younger one had had more than he should have. Maybe it had something to do with how Goten was sitting; I'd grown up with him so I was used to whatever potentially weird behaviour he could throw at people. 

Mom and Gohan were talking about Earth, with Father openly eavesdropping next to them, Kakarot was telling his mother about a planet where he'd eaten strange food that turned patches of his skin blue, and the rest of us were listening to the conversations in silence. 

Goten had thrown a pillow at me a couple times to get my attention, but I hadn't thrown anything back, much to his dismay. My mind was still on how I was going to approach Mom without getting caught. I also wondered idly if I'd be able to figure out what little detail was bothering Gohan before I left tomorrow, but I doubted I'd find a chance to ask in private prior to then. 

“Hello, code Earth to Trunks. An-kay oo-yay ear-hay ee-may?”

I tilted my head to give Goten a baffled expression. “Uh... what?”

“I said – hold on. An-kay oo-yay derstand-unay ee-may?”

I blinked at him, waiting for him to explain whatever gibberish he was making up to get my attention. Apparently, he thought he was being hilarious, because he smiled even wider and started giggling and calling to his brother. 

“Hey Gohan!” After his name was repeated for the third time, the older sibling halted his conversation with Mom and looked at Goten expectantly. 

“Ey-they ant-kay eek-spay ig-pay atin-lay!” Goten exclaimed.

At his brother's words, Gohan rolled his eyes in an _are-you-serious_ sort of motion. Mom chuckled to herself, and I realized that she somehow understood whatever ridiculous prank Goten was trying to pull, and so did Gohan. 

I looked at Mom for an explanation, but she just smiled and talked gibberish right back in my direction. 

“I ownt-way oil-spay uh-thay aim-gay,” she said.

“I an-kay oo-day it oo-tay!” came Kakarot's voice to join in.

Gine looked just as confused as I was, and glancing at Father, he too looked like he thought everyone had gone mad. Piccolo was pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. 

“The first of you three to get it wins,” said Goten. Evidently, only Father, Gine and I were out of the loop, and everyone else expected us to figure it out. I assume Piccolo somehow knew, but was opting not to participate. 

Mom looked at Father, mirth in her eyes, before she spoke again. “Eye-way ou-say eerious-say?”

“What kind of preposterous language is that?” he asked in response, narrowing his eyes. Clearly, he was confused as to why it was not being automatically translated, and how his confusion was so amusing.

“Kakarot, I do believe your son has infected all of you with some absurd mental disease,” he said when his question was not answered. 

“I'm not getting this either,” I said. 

“Is it some sort of code?” asked Gine. “My translator's certainly not broken.”

“Must be,” I replied, “though it's no code I've ever heard of – and I've known Goten a long time.” I punctuated said half-Saiyan with a glare.

“Trust me guys, it's not hard to figure out. You'll get it, but you'll feel stupid for not having done it sooner,” said Gohan. 

“Keep talking,” I said to no one in particular, sitting up. If I was going to figure this out, I needed to keep hearing it. 

“Ah... um... Oo-yay are-ay ort-shay and gree-aray,” Kakarot said to father. 

“Goku,” my mother chided him lightly, but she smirked a bit, enjoying herself. 

I pursed my lips in thought. He'd used the word 'and,' which had stood out, but everything else still sounded like nonsense. 

_They're using the 'ay' sound a lot. Are they reversing the word and adding it on the end? No, to complicated for Kakarot, and probably Goten too._

“You guys are so serious, it's hilarious,” said Goten, who was struggling not to laugh at me.

Just as I was about to force him to give up the answer, suddenly and gloriously, it clicked in my head.

“I got it!” I said, before turning to elbow Goten in the ribs. He just laughed some more.

“Um – ike-lay iss-thay?” I questioned, and Mom clapped her hands. 

Kakarot, like I was some sort of genius to him, scooted a few seats over and gave me a pat on the back – and for some unfathomable reason, a minute frown emerged on his face. But his expression was back to its ordinary, jovial state a moment later, when Gine let out an exclamation of discovey.

Kakarot's mother stood up, tail snaking behind her, smiling triumphantly. “Oo-yay ant-kay ool-fay ee-may nee-ay oar-may!”

“You got it, grandma!” Goten responded, still rubbing the sore spot on his ribs I'd given him. He'd flipped his position so that he was sitting upright like everyone else.

“How are you not getting this, Vegeta?” asked Mom. “You're smarter than that.”

Father looked simultaneously frustrated and helpless, like he'd been asked to care for the infant of some exotic animal he knew nothing about. The mental image made me grin. 

Kakarot, ever the guy-next-door type, chose to make the answer obvious and not prolong the embarrassment. “Ame-kay... ame-hay... ah-hay!” 

Father's expression suddenly shifted. 

“Damn you Kakarot,” he hissed upon realization. “This is the most idiotic game I have ever heard of.”

Everyone continued to laugh. 

Once we had all calmed down, the conversations returned to their previous casual tone and volume level. Even the most uptight members of our group had relaxed sufficiently, with a little help from the alcoholic beverages, though we'd all only had enough to take the edge off ourselves (excluding Piccolo, who'd had none – I didn't even know if he could get inebriated). 

After a time, I decided to seek out some fresh air. Just outside the lounge, separated by the same sliding doors found in the rest of the building, was a large balcony that wrapped partially around the outer wall. The shape offered a sense of privacy if one so desired, all you had to do was walk away from the door to one end of the balcony. Unless someone flew up, they were too far to see anything. 

The moons lit up the black sky above me. Due to the nature of how they eclipsed each other, it was many years between a full moon from either celestial body, and thankfully so. One rampaging ape was enough – a planet full of them was a nightmare. Saiyans squads often made use of full moons on other worlds by timing their attacks concurrently Technically, there didn't have to be a moon, it just had to be a large planetary body that emanated enough Blutz Waves – it was broken down to an actual science. 

I'd brought a drink out with me, the reflection of the lunar disks in it made the liquid seem black in comparison. I was reminded of the last time I'd had the beverage; my ceremony a few weeks ago. Or had it been more than a few? Life had slipped so quickly back into routine that I'd forgotten. Of course, that routine was about to change again as of tomorrow, and I hoped it would be for the permanent better. 

I heard the door slide open and closed behind me, but I didn't bother to look. I knew I'd have difficulty getting privacy, but I'd only been outside for a few minutes before I was interrupted. 

The figure's peripheral presence was large enough that it had to be Gohan or his dad – there wasn't quite enough weight in the step for it to be Piccolo. However, when the person moved to stand beside me, I realized by his build that it was Kakarot. 

“Hey Kakarot,” I greeted, finally looking at him as I set my cup on the wide railing. “You out for some air too?”

“Eh-heh, just Goku is fine,” he said. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, like he was embarrassed to have corrected me.

I recalled Mom telling me that, at some point, the Saiyans had tried to use advanced technology to restore what Kakarot – Goku – had lost with his brain injury. From what I knew, it hadn't gone well, and his slow recovery from the attempts hadn't left him with much in the way of positive results. I'd never asked how much he remembered; it had all happened before I was even born. Regardless of what may have been fixed, he still seemed to prefer his Earth name to his real name.

“Hey, uh, Trunks, I – I didn't come out here just for fresh air,” he said. When I waited for him to elaborate, he stayed quiet, so I assumed he was waiting for me to prompt him further. 

“Did you need to talk to me about something?” I asked him.

“Actually, I do,” he said. His tone then became apologetic. “Look, I'm just gonna be honest – I read your mind when we were talking after dinner. I'm sorry.” 

I blinked dumbly at him. 

“I, uh, I read Vegeta's mind too, just to be sure. He told me he needed me here on the planet, but he wasn't being very clear why... I promise invading someone's privacy like that is something I avoid doing unless I really have to,” he elaborated.

“You – huh...?” I sounded.

Nothing clicked for a moment, and then in sudden clarity, I understood that he knew I was leaving. And I also understood that apparently, Kakarot was somehow psychic. _Or maybe I've had way too much to drink,_ I thought as I glanced at my cup.

Kakarot's face and posture became stern, in the characteristic Son family mood swing, and his dark eyes were fixed on mine. 

“Listen. You need to talk to Bulma before you go. I can distract Vegeta for a while to give you time if you need. You're leaving in the morning before dawn tomorrow, so you need to talk to her tonight,” he said.

“Hold on. Why is this so important all of a sudden?” I demanded. Something bigger was definitely going on, and my nagging suspicions were growing by the minute. Goten had mentioned something about me telling Mom, and now Kakarot – wait. 

“Tell me what's going on,” I said before he could reply to my previous question. “Goten said to do the same thing earlier. Is everyone hiding something from me?”

“No. Goten just had the same reaction I did.”

The Son family were the people with the most genuine hearts I'd ever known. And now, because of all the little things that had been building up, I wasn't sure if even they were completely trustworthy anymore. If Kakarot could read minds, he probably knew everyone's secrets, including my parents'. 

“I wasn't supposed to tell anybody about this. I told my best friend, and I'm supposed to think it's a coincidence his dad gives me the same advice? Apparently, it looks like everybody knows I'm leaving, so what's the point of all the secrecy?” I said.

“Uh, try not to raise your voice or your ki. Someone will definitely notice.”

I hadn't realized that my tone had been getting harsher, so I composed myself and continued in almost a whisper.

“I eavesdropped on Father's conversation with Mom – I think there's a very important reason he wanted this secret from her, and I think you know what it is. They're hiding something from me, and for all I know my best friend, the person I'm supposed to trust most, is keeping me in the dark too.”

“Goten would never keep secrets like that from you. If your parents were hiding something, besides you he'd be the last person to know, and that's because of the amount of trust between you.”

“Okay. But even if he doesn't know, this still doesn't add up. Why would my father suddenly offer to take me to the PTO, of all places, after locking me up here my whole life? I mean, I was happy at first – I thought it was because he finally saw me as competent for something like that.”

“Trunks... that _is_ the reason why he's taking you. Believe me. Your mom... has her reasons for being overprotective, and he just didn't want her to worry. That's all.”

I could see that, if something was happening behind my back, Son Goku wasn't going to tell me about it. Begrudgingly, I decided to once again put the matter to the back of my mind, along with my growing frustration. I was about to be spending some 'quality time' with my father, and I was sure I'd get to the bottom of things soon – whether I sought it out or not. 

“Alright. But, uh, just to be clear – you can read minds? When did that happen?” I asked.

“Oh. Uh. I just skimmed the surface. Whatever is at the front of your thoughts. It's a lot harder to get anything else,” he replied, neglecting to tell me how he'd acquired such an ability. 

“I'm guessing you'd rather me not tell everyone about that.”

“Ah, well, actually, it doesn't matter. I think Bulma knows – and maybe your dad?”

“My father has never mentioned anything about it.”

“Then if he knows, he's not worried.”

“Then it's settled. I'll go talk with Mom.” 

Kakarot nodded absentmindedly in response. He was staring off at some point in the sky, distracted by some stray thought. 

Grabbing my abandoned cup from its perch, I decided to head back inside. Just before I was half turned away, Kakarot's voice interrupted me. 

“Oh, there's just one more secret you need to keep. I think it follows that you can tell your Mom what we talked about – but don't tell Vegeta yet. He'll, uh, definitely get mad at me.”

I looked Kakarot in the eye briefly as a means of affirmation, suddenly feeling much more tired than I should be. I walked back towards the door, reentering the cacophony of the interior. It wasn't quite as loud as before, but still a shock in comparison to the diminished sound of the night outside.

I was given a few individual looks from my friends, but the glances weren't heavy enough to warrant any suspicion. _What am I thinking? I'm the last person who they should be looking at for guilty secrets._

Kakarot had followed me back inside, but he didn't return to his previous seat and neither did I. I chose instead to park myself next to Mom, who seemed delighted to have her son's company. Unfortunately, Father was on her other side, so even if I whispered that I wanted to talk to her, I was worried he'd hear me. He didn't look at me twice, however, so he wasn't mistrustful of my motives at least. 

When Goten had challenged his dad to a handstand contest, my father eventually relented and joined in, deciding to do it one-handed and expending little effort all the while. Goten began pouting that it was unfair and Gine laughed, mentally counting the time for them. 

Taking the opportunity I needed, I leaned over slightly and whispered to Mom. 

“I need to talk to you later. In private.” 

When she didn't give a response, I was worried she hadn't heard me, but after a moment she inclined her head to indicate that she had. I double-checked that Piccolo hadn't overheard (unless he was distracted, it would be implausible), and judging by his preoccupation with his conversation with Gohan, he hadn't noticed. Not that he was untrustworthy, or the type to tell secrets either. 

I relaxed in my seat, enjoying watching my family make idiots of themselves.

 

\---

 

After everyone had left to their respective domiciles for the night, Mom had instead agreed to meet me in my room. I hadn't yet changed into sleeping clothes, but I wouldn't bother until later anyway. With the knowledge of my trip looming, I was anxious and (after filling Mom in) had been planning on reading to take the edge off my nerves. I had a few half-finished novels on my desk, enough material to supply me for hours, if I so chose.

Checking through the stack of books, I decided upon one I hadn't yet read – _The Time Machine,_ by someone named Wells – and brought it over to put in with the clothes and other items packed for the trip. 

My bag wasn't all that large, carrying only my essentials; I didn't need to pack food or clothes, as those were already standard on-board most every ship, excluding the attack pods. I'd kept the bag stashed under my bed next to my sword, so that neither of the items would be forgotten. 

I heard Mom's footsteps at the door before I heard her knock, and she entered shortly after announcing her presence. 

“So, Trunks? What's this about?” she asked.

I couldn't turn back now.

I held my breath, then let the words tumble out.


	7. Chapter 7

It wasn't as quick a speech as it had been with Goten. Even so, Mom didn't interrupt, keeping her expressions carefully schooled as well, until I'd finished. 

“Your father never told me about this,” she said finally. A rare look crossed her face, like what I'd said had sunk it with some measure of severity for her. 

“He – he didn't want to worry you,” I said, though I wasn't entirely sure of why he'd actually told me to keep quiet. 

“Shit,” she breathed, as she steadied herself against the nearby table. 

I watched her wobble a bit as she sank into the chair and placed a hand on her stomach. Even in the dim lighting, the pallor of her face ensured me that she hadn't taken the news lightly. _And I thought Father was the one who was supposed to take things too seriously._

“You're overreacting Mom, we can handle ourselves and it's strictly a business trip anyway. We'll only be gone a few weeks,” I said. 

I hadn't expected her to take it quite so harshly, and now I was scrambling for a way to reassure her.

She did not look reassured. 

“Trunks,” she said.

“Kakarot's promised to stay the entire time we're gone. Piccolo and Gohan are staying too. Nobody will even think about trying to hurt you.”

“Trunks -”

“Please don't tell Father I told you. Just when he's finally giving me responsibility -”

“Trunks!” she said loudly, voice ringing with authority though an odd quaver ran through it. It was enough to cause me to shut my mouth and let her speak. 

“It's not that I don't trust you to handle yourself. Or your father, as impulsive as he can be sometimes. I'm not even worried about myself. It's Frieza I don't trust.”

I frowned. 

“Well, he might be the leader of the PTO, but he does rely a lot on us to provide him with soldiers,” I said. “And he hasn't spoken with Father directly in, what – I don't even know how many years. Since I'm an adult now too, maybe he just wants to solidify his organization's trust with the future king. Or maybe that was Father's idea. I don't think Frieza has the time to care about little details when he has such a large business to run.”

“Yes, but -” Mom pursed her lips. “He's still dangerous.” It sounded like she'd been considering saying something else, but filled in with a safer option. She sighed, and it came out as partially frustrated and partially resigned. 

“I guess I can't stop you from going. But mark my words, this isn't over. I'm kicking your father's ass when you two get back. He can't be this level of jerkhole and get away with it...” She muttered the last part to herself. Then her eyes took on a faraway look, like she was deep in thought. 

“I want to give you something. Hold on,” she said with a strange look. 

She moved across the room, fishing through a closet until she emerged with a box. Taking the lid off, she pulled a smaller parcel out before replacing the box. She turned back to me, holding it out for me to take. 

I obliged, turning the object around with my hands. It was a plain and rectangular package, beige and the size of a large hardcover novel, with what felt like bundles of something inside.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I wasn't sure when the right time to give it to you was. But, listen – don't open it now. Look at it only after you've spoken to Frieza. And don't tell your father I gave it to you.”

I raised a brow. “Cryptic, Mom.” 

How many times had I been told recently to not tell so-and-so about something? Like a giant, ridiculous game of telephone, except all the players were trying to garble the message on purpose. And I was the one who got punished for it. 

“I mean it. I want you to promise,” she urged.

“Okay okay, I promise. What's in here that's so important, anyway?”

“You'll get it when it's opened. _No_ peeking until then.”

“Right. I won't.” I bounced the package in my hand, testing the weight. I didn't have anywhere in my clothes to stash it because of the size, but it wasn't likely that anybody would bother me if they saw me with it. It was pretty nondescript. 

I looked back at Mom and saw that she was trying to hide the fact that she was upset. Half the time she was distressed over little things, but this time I knew that my leaving her was more than that. 

I came close to Mom, leaning down to embrace her. I didn't fully understand her motives, but it wasn't imperative to me that I know her reasons right away – hell, I didn't know what anybody was trying to do, and what was one more person added to the mix?

“Mom...” I began, but she spoke first.

“I won't try and convince you not to go, you're too damn stubborn for that. And I know -” Her voice caught. “- I know this means a lot to you, to be able to finally go somewhere beyond home. And it scares me, because even though you might not like it I'll always see you as my little boy. You're growing up and I don't want to lose you. Please make sure you come back.”

She rubbed my back in soothing motions, like she was the one supposed to be comforting me. Her hair was soft against my cheek. 

“You know I love you, right?” It came out as a sniffle and I knew she was crying a little.

“I love you too, Mom,” I replied.

I released her before speaking again. “You know I'll come back. And, who knows – maybe Father will let me see Earth again eventually. Maybe he'll let you take me there as compensation for... all this.”

She smiled sadly. “I'd really like that, Trunks. Maybe he will. It'd be funny, watching Goten try to show you the ropes. Because of course he'd want to go with you, you're like the tag team everyone wished they had.” 

Suddenly, an expression crossed her face like she'd forgotten something. 

“Have you told Goten you're going?” she asked. “You ought to at least tell him goodbye.”

“Actually, he's the one I told first. He helped convince me to tell you about it, and so did his dad.” I neglected to tell her that Kakarot knew because he'd read my mind, but I figured that tidbit of information could wait until it actually became useful. 

“You told Goku about this?”

“Ah... Yes. I figured he was trustworthy.” Except for the part where he hadn't told anybody he was psychic, but I supposed that would be awkward to explain, particularly after keeping it secret for so long.

“Don't worry. He's trustworthy, especially where it counts. I've known him for a long time.” Mom then put her hands to her hair, fixing wayward strands that didn't exist.

“God, I wish I had a cigarette right now,” she muttered. Mom had kicked her smoking habit, but after all this time she still complained about it.

“Well, I guess I should let you get to bed. You have a big day tomorrow,” she spoke up after a pause.

I nodded, and a smile crept on my face. “I guess this is goodbye for now. I'll see you in a few weeks, Mom.”

She smiled back at me and hugged me again, arms closing tight around my midsection. “Be safe,” she said. 

 

\---

 

“Get up. We're leaving within the hour.” 

I almost shot straight out of bed at my father's voice. I hadn't heard him come in, or even approach me for that matter. He could move surprisingly quiet for someone with a reputation for loud, angry outbursts.

“I'm awake, I'm awake,” I slurred, because I was most certainly not awake. 

When my eyes focused on Father, I could see he was fully dressed, armour and all. He didn't look the slighted bit tired from the early wake-up. Considering I actually had no idea when he usually arose, maybe this wasn't early for him. 

“Meet me at docking port two,” he said, then turned on his heel and strode out without another word. 

I got up and dressed quickly, the adrenaline of excitement beginning to sink in. Based on what Father had been wearing, I chose an armour set with my family insignia on it – to anyone in Frieza's envoy, it would be obvious who I was. Plain suits would be available on the ship for me to wear if I needed them in between here and there, but I surmised that I had to bring this one too. 

I grabbed my bag of personals, including mom's 'gift,' strapped my sword on and left in a flurry. I tied my hair while I was en route through the halls, crossing only a distrait guard once or twice and no one else. A few of the lavender locks, just a bit too short for the messy ponytail, hung down at the sides of my face; I resolved to fix it later. 

From the windows I did pass, I knew that the sun had not yet risen. When I reached the doors to the docking port I needed, which let me outside to the platform, my suspicions were confirmed. There was a faint wind, enough to blow around a bit of dust that I couldn't see but certainly felt. 

Docking port two was where the larger ships for only our family were stored (port one contained the smaller ballistic capsules, for emergency or speed). I'd thought we'd be taking one of the smaller ships that could move a lot faster – but I guess Father wanted something with more room and equipment. 

Father was standing on the platform, waiting for me. Someone unfamiliar with his mannerisms may have thought he was irritable, but I knew he was being fully patient. I assumed anything extra he'd wanted to take was already inside one of the ships, and all that remained was for us to board. 

When I reached his position, he turned and headed towards the closest vessel – a massive model with a vaguely saucer-like ring attached on the outside, but could easily fit full sized ceilings in the internal, almost rectangular centre. Obviously, I'd never been inside, so I was awed with the proportions of the ship up close. 

“We're taking this one? It's huge,” I said, and Father made an amused noise. 

“This is nothing. Designed to fit one squadron in comfort at most, though few of the cavalry ever get to use anything other than the attack pods. Save being impressed until you see Frieza's ship,” Father explained. 

When we were centred under the spacecraft, there was a faint whirring sound and a section of ramp descended from over top us. Father went up the steps without hesitation, but I took one last look behind me before following him up. 

Only the sight of the port greeted me, framed by the plain night sky. The ramp had already begun to close when we were halfway up, pulling us back into the ship with it and obstructing my view. Not that there had been much to look at. 

When the entryway had sealed shut with a hiss of the airlock, I took the opportunity to scan my new surroundings. There was the initial entry chamber that I was in now, but I pursued Father past one of who electric bulkheads and into a short hallway, with another door at the end. The temperature inside the ship was cooler than I had expected – it was probably air conditioned to prevent it overheating in the sun, or freezing while in space. With the heat I was accustomed to, I knew it would be a bit of an adjustment. 

The main interior of the ship was another larger hallway, but it tapered wide at one end where it branched off to lead into other rooms. Father chose the one in the centre that I tailed him through, and we emerged into what seemed like a large pilot's cockpit.

There was a massive dashboard that circled half the room, and an equally large window, the view of which currently was only nearby platforms and desert. The control panel was completely touch-screen, but the glass was Saiyan-grade sturdy. However, the script displayed was all Galactic Standard, though the only trouble I had in reading it was the sheer amount of it. 

Father seemed completely familiar with the controls, effortlessly navigating the console as he inputted whatever directions he needed for the autopilot. Any other adjustments were made with the same quick accuracy, and in no time I heard the ship fire up with a faint hum.

A shield descended over the window; even though the translucent pane was probably thick, a cover would be needed for exiting or entering the atmosphere, as well as if the ship was under attack. 

“Get comfortable. It will take us twelve days to arrive,” Father explained, his finger tapping the dashboard as his eyes grazed over the display. I revisited my earlier surprise at him not having chosen faster transportation, but he'd probably brush me off if I asked. Then again, I had little to no knowledge on how long it should take; I didn't even know how far Frieza's base was from my home planet. 

I had the sudden, odd realization that this was one of the few times I was with Father and no one else was around. Of course, there were rare moments where we talked alone, but I didn't know what to do with myself when it was going to be twelve days. We didn't exactly participate in the usual father-son bonding thing often.

I shook my head. We'd probably just maintain our usual, clinical distance, maybe exchange a couple two-word sentences. I didn't know how to approach him just for the sake of conversation, so unless he initiated one, it wouldn't happen. 

“Is there something you find remarkably interesting in this room? If you're quite finished gawking, go put your things away. I trust you can explore the ship to your leisure and find the bedrooms on your own. You may come back to this room whenever you'd like, and if you wish you can reopen the window once we're in space.” Father gestured to the switch in question. “But don't dream of touching the controls otherwise. It's on autopilot for a reason.”

I quickly nodded. I'd had no plans to attempt driving the thing, but Father's insistence that I not fuck around with anything made me extra wary. I turned and left the room, selecting my next direction at random by curving my path into the next adjacent doorway. 

It appeared to lead to a kitchen of some kind, but all I found in the compartments as far as food went was the powdered, packaged kind ideal for space travel. I'd once found a stash of it as a kid and eaten twelve of them, just as powder, then viciously thrown up afterwards. They tasted pretty much like sand until rehydrated; when water was added there were a few individual flavours to choose from. Though they were never anything special in the first place, and my childhood memory had placed them rather low on the desirability list. I'd have to make do with them for twelve days, at least. 

There was a niche at the far end of the kitchen where I finally found the dried and thermal-stabilized goods. There was also a medium-sized, humming compartment that I assumed held cold foods, but nothing available to heat food if we wanted. It was either lukewarm or chilled, though at least it was better than powdered chalk. 

Beyond the kitchen was a lounge or dining room, and another door at the end seemed to loop around to the restroom and showers. I went back the way I came and chose another hallway, which took me to a large area I assumed was used for training. It definitely wouldn't be strong enough to handle anything more than the weakest of ki blasts, but there was plenty of room for solely physical exercise. 

The third hallway I took led me to the bedrooms. They were small, but private areas instead of bunks, enough to fit a moderately sized bed and a bit of walking space. One of the rooms was locked, so I assumed Father had chosen it and I selected mine at random. 

When entering the room fully, I noticed a closet that could fit a few articles of clothing, so I removed my armour and placed it in the storage space, leaving myself only in the plain bodysuit. Opting to leave my gloves (and boots) on as well, I placed my sword and bag on the bed and sat down next to them. 

The mattress was much stiffer than I expected. I bounced my weight on it a few times, confirming that while it wasn't as uncomfortable as regular accommodations for soldiers, it wasn't just my royal privilege that had me noticing how inflexible it was. The frame of the bed itself was bolted to the wall and floor, and so was the nightstand next to it. I supposed if anything were to happen to the gravity or worse, the foresight to avoid having large objects floating around had been a good idea. 

I put the things from my bag into the drawers of the nightstand. I left Mom's package covered inside the satchel, just in case, though Father had never stepped near my things before and wouldn't start now. There wasn't anywhere to put my sword, but I wanted it out in view anyway; I wouldn't need it but having it near was a comfort. 

Though I didn't actually move in place, I suddenly felt an odd, weightless sensation for a moment before I assumed the artificial gravity kicked in. The slight clink my sword made in its sheath confirmed what had happened – we'd probably left the atmosphere by now. I hadn't felt us moving otherwise. 

Once I was sure we'd settled at speed and wouldn't encounter random turbulence, I got up to explore the rest of the ship. 

One room contained battle gear and blasters, though it was mostly the former, and the latter – which there were few of – were locked securely, so they wouldn't accidentally fire off or explode if something unforeseen happened. 

The last room contained strange pods, large enough to fit a person inside. There was a panel at the head of each one, but the screens were dark. The containers had a glass cover for the lid, clean enough that my hand left fingerprints on it. It was slightly cool to the touch, but nothing out of the ordinary, so whatever they were, they were inactive. There didn't appear to be any sort of restraints or proper bedding inside, though there were tiny holes lining areas of the interior. _Perhaps they give air, or fill the tank with something else._

In the back of the room, but a good distance from the pods, there was something that looked a lot like a jail cell, large enough for one or maybe two occupants. I didn't bother to give it more than a cursory glance before leaving the strange room. 

With nothing left to do, and Father not having sought me out to tell me anything specific, I returned to my bedroom. I'd been woken up rather early, and though I wasn't hungry, I hadn't eaten yet, which had left me on the fringes of exhaustion. 

Deciding my body would wake itself when I inevitably did get famished, I decided to settle down for a light nap. I moved my sword to the floor and lay down as I was, fully clothed. I was asleep mere minutes afterwards. 

 

\---

 

I woke up with the realization that I'd been asleep for longer than a light nap. I felt replenished in the mental sense, but I was still a bit groggy and my stomach was painful in a way that meant I'd missed more than one meal. 

I couldn't exactly look out the window and tell the time of day, so I rolled out of bed in a state of half confusion. I felt cold and stiff, but there wasn't a lot I could do about that except get up and move around. 

Following the direction of Father's ki, I found myself in the lounge room, where he appeared to be tinkering with a scouter. He would rarely play around with technology, but I knew he was very well acquainted with that device in particular, so I doubted anything would wind up broken. Saiyans often had trouble with certain fine-tuned motor skills, where humans were more adept, according to Mom. I seemed to have no trouble, and I'd never noticed if Goten did – but I could see it sometimes with Father and especially Kakarot. 

There were a few empty dishes on the table in front of Father. I assumed he'd already eaten, as it was probably past the usual time we ate our middle meal of the day. 

“For a 'luxury' vessel, those beds sure are uncomfortable,” I said, stretching my arms to work a kink out of my back. Father took note of my presence by looking at me for a singular second, then returned his attention to the scouter. 

“As with the rest of the furniture, they're designed to stay put together in case of an emergency with turbulence or the gravity.” Father then gave a short, one-syllable laugh. “And as this is a luxury vessel for soldiers' needs, they are also designed to take a beating.”

“Take a beat-” I stopped talking when I realized I didn't want to know what that detailed and why it amused him. “Uh, anyway, what's for lunch? Does it matter what I eat? I mean, I can tolerate the powdered stuff, I guess...” 

I really didn't want to have to tolerate it, but I hadn't made note of the rations we'd had when touring the ship.

“We have enough dried food so you don't have to. Unless you decide to make a habit of eating from boredom, we'll have enough until we arrive at Frieza's station.”

_I guess boredom may actually become an issue. Doesn't seem like there's a whole lot to do._

“Speaking of boredom,” I said, moving into the kitchen to fetch myself a meal, “what's there to do while we travel? I found the training room, but it seems pretty limited. I did bring a book, but I'm thinking I should've brought two...”

“Don't expect me to entertain you. The stasis chambers that you may have found while exploring the ship – those are sometimes used for longer journeys, but they're not necessary for us. I'm sure you can manage twelve days without that third-class boy around,” he said. 

I pursed my lips, without a comment. From the food storage I pulled myself out a few dozen crackers, two hunks of dried meat, three palm-sized containers of a pudding-like substance, and several strips of firm greens that were a lot softer than they looked. As an afterthought, I took a canister of water, considering the amount of salt in the food I'd chosen. 

“So,” I began, setting my food down. I sat a ways across from him, without intruding his space in the slightest. “I, uh, basically slept half the day away. If we're in space, does it matter when I sleep?”

“It doesn't. You'll probably have to reset your sleeping intervals anyway on Frieza's station, as everyone there could be set on a different cycle entirely. You may eat or sleep whenever you want,” he replied.

I nodded, feeding myself at a moderate pace. 

Afterwards, I took a brief visit to the training room for some moderate exercises. I became sluggish a lot faster than usual, my movements sloppier than Father would've considered acceptable, so I gave up and decided to go to the control room to see the view of space.

I hit the switch Father had pointed out to me earlier and the shield retreated slowly. 

Beyond the glass pane, the scene looked similar to a moonless night sky. Countless stars decorated the backdrop of the void, and I could almost feel the cold seeping through the window. With nothing else pressing at my mind, I gazed out into space for an indeterminate amount of time, hoping (but not expecting) to pass by a stray planet or a colourful nebula. 

During the second day of our journey, two calls were placed from Planet Vegeta to the ship – one in the morning, and one in the evening (as relative as those times of day could be in space). Father ignored both, and the caller took the hint. 

After day four, I'd fallen into a routine of sorts, sometimes doing things for the sole purpose of warding off my perpetual chill. My sleeping pattern wasn't too far off from Father's, though even so, it felt more like we were occupying the same space instead of living together. 

I often spent time sitting in the control room, as I enjoyed the view of space, even if we weren't near anything to look at. We did come in close view with a small moon once, though I mistook it for a planet at first glance until Father explained otherwise. It was one of the few times we carried on a conversation, the second was just short of one week in.

I was in the lounge, reading the book I'd brought. Despite all my excess time, I hadn't made as much progress through it as I'd hoped, but had made some in little increments. Wading through some of the obsolete, formal phrases was more difficult than I'd originally thought it would be, but I found immersing myself in the novel seemed to help.

When Father entered the room, I was so engrossed that I didn't notice him for some time.

“I doubt I've seen you with such focus before,” he said eventually, interrupting my concentration. I looked up at him and blinked away the letters floating behind my eyelids, letting the book come to a rest in my lap. 

Father strode a few paces closer, his eyes glazing over the exposed pages. I knew he could barely read Mom's native language, so it probably just looked like scribbles to him. I recalled how strange the lettering had looked to me when first learning it. 

“I assume you can read the language quite well,” he said, frowning at the tiny and clustered text. 

“Yeah, Mom always wants me to practice,” I said. 

When his attention still seemed to be held, I continued. “The novels are more engaging than nonfiction sometimes. Especially when I first started learning as a kid. Gohan really encouraged me and gave me books he thought I would like.” I thumbed the pages, flipping through idly. “It's not as hard as it looks, since the most difficult part is the grammatical stuff – thanks to the translator, we already know how to speak it. All it takes is remembering to link what you're reading to the right language, but learning the sounds of the letters isn't hard at all.”

Father gave a vague sort of nod, and an idea came to me. I closed the book and pointed to the cover. 

“See this? This is the word 'the.'” 

“'The' is a useless word,” replied Father, frowning again. We were communicating in Standard, as we did most of the time, which lacked a properly equivalent word altogether – I was thankful again for our nanotechnology, as having to explain the meaning of 'the' would've been nigh impossible. 

“The letter 't' makes a _tuh_ sound, the letter 'h' makes a _huh,_ and 'e' makes _uh_ in this case. But when 't' and 'h' are next to each other, it usually means you get a _th_ sound. Hence 'the,'” I elaborated.

“That sounds far too complicated for a useless word.”

“If you think that's complicated, I'd hate to see how you handled other Earth languages. In some of them, 'the' is masculine or feminine, depending on the words that come after it, not the gender of the speaker.”

Father looked baffled and slightly angry that something so needless existed. I would have laughed, but then I decided I wanted to show him something. He seemed bored enough to listen to me, and I was happy to have something different than the numerous days of monotony. 

“I can show you a different example of Mom's language that's easier to explain, and actually useful. Do we have something on board I can write with?” I asked.

A few minutes later, while Father waited (having taken a seat, apparently ready to tolerate my explanations) and his gaze followed me around, I returned with the tools I needed. 

I sat back down not quite across from him, but not next to him. Smoothing out the paper, I tested the ink in the writing utensil on the corner before beginning my tutorial.  


“This is how you write your name,” I said, before writing it out all in lower case. I made sure the letters were spaced just enough to be easily identified. 

“And this is mine,” I continued, and followed suit with my own title. 

“They have one symbol the same,” he remarked. I was surprised he'd said anything, but I supposed it was a good thing that he was willing to participate in something so mundane.

I nodded, then wrote out Mom's name underneath the other two. “This is Mom's. Usually names have something called a capital letter at the beginning, but it's not really that important.”

Father still seemed to be paying attention, so I continued. 

“You probably noticed that this first letter of your name is pronounced a little different in Mom's language, more of an elongated sound. That's why it's a different letter than the one at the beginning of mom's name, unlike how it is in the Standard. In all of our names, each letter is one sound,” I said.

I wrote out some other names familiar to me in a list to demonstrate further. Some of them, I was unsure of the spelling, but I assumed they were close enough for my purposes. When the list was complete, Father picked it up and scanned the arrangement.

“The fourth name is Kakarot's, and I assume the seventh is Gohan's. I don't know the rest, besides what you showed me,” he said.

He'd picked up what little I'd explained rather quickly and used it to decipher more – I supposed he was smarter than most people gave him credit for. 

“You got Gohan and Kakarot right,” I told him. “If you know those, you can work out the rest, given time.”

“ _Hmph._ You got your enthusiasm for this sort of thing from your mother, not me,” he said.

Just then, an alert beeped from somewhere, indicating that attention was needed in the control room.

“There better not be something wrong with the ship,” Father grumbled and stood up. Out of curiosity, I followed him, leaving the paper where he'd replaced it on the table. 

“It's an asteroid field,” Father said, once we'd reached the control room. 

I could actually see it through the window. Massive boulders spiralled through the emptiness, many of them bigger than the ship we were travelling in. Even some of the craters pockmarking them were over twice the size. 

Though it was impressive to see, I wondered how the phenomenon would mark as an unusual sight when Father continued to explain. “It isn't marked here on the map. A planet is. It must have been destroyed at some point very recently.”

I recalled Goten telling me avidly about one of his favourite Earth movies where this happened, but I didn't think Father would appreciate my attempt to relay the detail. Besides, I myself understood the implications of a exterminated planet – the people on it, mostly. I knew that Saiyans were often sent to purge planets and sell them, but I tried to justify the difference in my mind by not thinking too hard about it. 

“An asteroid may have collided with it, or perhaps one of Frieza's cronies blew it up. Either way, we'll have to detour around, though it shouldn't take enough extra time to make a difference,” Father said.

From that time until we arrived, it was the most that he said to me. 

 

\---

 

I was asleep when the next alert sounded. I had half awoken at the noise, debating whether I should keep sleeping, and had decided to do so when Father moved to stand in the doorway I'd left open (with no one else on the ship, I didn't care – he never even looked inside the few times he walked by when I was in there). 

He must have known I was awake by my ki. “We'll be docking in a couple hours, I suggest you get ready,” he said. 

It took me a moment to process, but I rolled up right away as soon as it clicked in. 

“A couple hours? Uh, okay...” I stood up after he wandered away, deciding to take a shower as my hair was probably a mess. I'd gotten so used to it long that I'd decided to leave it that way, and just deal with the bit of extra care that came along with it. 

I combed out the knots with my fingers while showering, tying my hair back right away after I got out. I put on a fresh bodysuit and the custom armour I'd brought with me from home, then returned to my room, taking my sword with me though not strapping it on yet. I double-checked that Mom's package was secure before I left the room.

I went to the kitchen and leaned my blade against the wall while I grabbed a small sum of food. I was getting anxious – though I wasn't sure whether it was a good or bad feeling – and I hoped that something in my stomach might help. 

After eating and then pacing around the ship umpteen times, I decided to go wait in the control room. Father would be in there, and from the window I would be able to see the station while we approached. 

When I entered the room, I could immediately spot the station – we were a lot closer than I'd thought, or the facility was much larger than I'd expected. In fact, it was utterly colossal; thousands of ships the size of the one we had could fit inside. It was made up of one solid body, but numerous smaller sections stuck out in places. I felt suddenly tiny in the face of something artificial this large. 

Behind the station was a planet. It seemed larger than home and looked quite different, as it was marked with vibrant purple and green swirls. From the looks of it, it may have been a gas planet, which was marginally disappointing to me. However, my dissatisfaction was gone quite quickly after. 

Within a few minutes of my entry, Father began operating something on the dashboard. A small square of light flashed on the screen and he touched it; it grew in size but became black on the inside. I assumed it was an optional video feed. 

“This is King Vegeta, requesting permission to dock,” Father said. He then recited a code of numbers and waited for a response. 

There was a brief silence before a voice spoke back over the intercom. “Request acknowledged. Please stand by.” 

A pause again, and the voice was back. “You have clearance to dock at port four. Locking onto your position now. Welcome back, sir.” The person on the other end said nothing else after that. 

It seemed to be longer still before we actually came into view of port four. At that point, I felt a small tremble go through the ship, which I guessed could be some sort of traction beam to help us dock, or our artificial gravity readjusting to the same level as the station's. When I could see the port door opening slowly ahead of us, the window shield began descending as an automatic response to landing, and soon my view was cut off. 

I was shifting my weight nervously, but Father seemed calm, albeit his expression was set sternly. He looked at me then, scanning my face for something, though I wasn't sure whether he'd found it or not. 

“Are you ready?” he asked. I nodded because I didn't know how my voice would come out sounding.

The ship's lighting suddenly dimmed and I knew we'd completed docking. 

While we walked to the exit, I reached up and let my fingers graze the pommel of my sword. Its familiarity calmed me somewhat, but I was surprisingly thankful for my Father's presence in the situation. I would've been floundering in confusion otherwise, and being with someone who was confident (and always seemed to know what to do, especially in this situation) made me feel less like I was in over my head.

“What's this Frieza guy even like?” I asked. Considering he ran the PTO, I assumed he was at least strategic and probably more than a little ruthless. I didn't know what species he was either, but the way his name was spoken made me think he was rather intimidating in stature and presence. 

“I doubt we'll be seeing him right away – but I'll leave describing what he is for when you meet him yourself,” replied Father. He was definitely scowling now, and I felt a ball of nervousness form in my throat and stomach. 

Our boots on the gangplank echoed in my ears in the moments before the platform began to descend, revealing us to the station.


	8. Chapter 8

The view that greeted us outside our ship took me aback a little, though I tried not to stare too much. Having had little contact with the variety of alien species that existed so far, or any type of docking bay larger than the one at home, the sight enraptured me. 

When I looked up and around the area, I was rewarded with the sight of dozens upon dozens of ships of varying sizes, contained under a massive, high vaulted ceiling more than a few stories high. Countless alien species moved around the floor, a few of them very similar to a human or Saiyan, but most were definitely of a foreign nature. Practically everyone I could see wore variations of the same armour.

Waiting just outside for us was a large, pink-skinned alien covered in spines and ridges. It had no hair to speak of, and I was so startled by its appearance I think I actually made a noise. 

“Dodoria. It's been a while,” my father said in a cold politeness. 

“Vegeta,” the creature greeted in return, with more obvious disdain. (I assumed 'Dodoria' was male by his voice and stature, but I couldn't be sure.) Dodoria then looked straight at me, scanning me up and down like I was an animal being judged for the quality of its pelt. 

“So this is your brat,” he said. “Can't say I would've guessed at first look.”

“I doubt there is much you could guess without taking your sweet time, Dodoria,” my father replied. Dodoria scowled, but then motioned for us to follow him, presumably to a way out of the docking bay. 

The lumbering pink alien led the way, with Father after him and myself at the back. While the two in front of me seemed nonchalant, I was soaking up all the new information I could, even if it was just visual at this point. A few people close by that we passed did give us a few curious looks in return, but none made eye contact. They actually appeared to gravitate away from us.

After crossing the massive docking bay, we passed through a door that opened up into a wide hallway, parts of the walls pasted with numbers and letters. It too was populated with figures moving about their business. Again, they cleared away from us as we walked, some of them shooting Dodoria and occasionally Father looks of wariness. Most, however, ignored us. 

“Frieza has agreed to see both of you within the hour,” Dodoria explained. If my father was surprised at that, he did not show it. “I'll be taking you to the location of your temporary rooms first. If there's anything you left on your ship you need to have, somebody can bring it to your room for you. I expect you're familiar with this routine, Vegeta, so I won't bother wasting more of my breath.”

Father looked like he was considering another thinly veiled insult, then decided against it and gave a one-motioned nod. 

The rooms and seemingly endless hallways all connected in some sort of maze that was above my comprehension at the moment. I'd tried in vain to formulate a mental road map that could lead me back to the ship, just in case, but I'd been lost quite quickly. I wondered if the people here just memorized where everything was, somehow made sense of the number-letter codes on the walls and above the doors, or used their scouters to guide them around. The last option seemed the most probable, as pretty much everyone I'd seen besides us had been wearing one. 

The barracks for more valued guests appeared to be allocated separately than the rest. I assumed high level officers or diplomats were the only ones permitted to use them, as when we reached the area the throngs of people thinned out considerably. We'd had to take an elevator to arrive at the place. 

Dodoria showed us to a door, one of many lined up along the corridor. 

“This is the room you'll be using,” he said. “The scouters you can use inside will have the room number if you forget. Wait here for now.”

Father strode in and I moved after him, the door closed behind us and I felt Dodoria's ki move off to who-knows-where. 

Taking a look around, I noted that the room had a similar design to the one on our ship, but it was for two persons, each on one side of the quarters. However, the beds were a bit larger than normal; probably to accommodate beings of varying sizes. 

“I guess we're stuck in here until he comes back?” I half asked, half stated. As Dodoria had promised, there were two scouters waiting for us on a small table, and Father had already taken one. 

“No. We wait here until the scouters inform us where to go. We're already on the correct level of the station, so we don't need that lumbering twat to chaperone us around.”

I took the other radar and turned it over in my hand. “I guess you knew that guy from before. You seem... pretty _informal_.” 

“He's Frieza's highest ranking officer, besides the one called Zarbon, who you'll no doubt see lurking around as well. They're both despicable,” Father said.

“Um... Aren't you worried they'll hear you or something? Wouldn't they have recording devices in here?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. I couldn't care less about offending those weaklings.”

“How strong is...” I was about to ask, but trailed off. Dodoria's ki had been more powerful than the average Saiyan's, but not particularly worrisome to someone on my level. If the other guy, Zarbon, was stronger, he could maybe put up a fight if I didn't power up too much. Besides Father and I, there was one other energy signature that stood out above the rest, but I wasn't entirely sure if it even _was_ someone's energy because of how strange and heavy it felt. I couldn't sense anyone that might be Frieza, though I'd been about to ask how strong he was. 

“Do you sense that dense pocket of energy?” Father asked, looking at me though his body language was turned away.

“Yes... though I wasn't sure that even was a person.” It felt weirdly compacted, like a bird trying to emerge from an egg that was far too small for it.

“That's Frieza.”

“Really...? His ki feels really different.”

Father gave me no response to that, instead directing his attention to configuring his new scouter. Whatever he was altering on it, he did the same to mine shortly afterwards, extending his hand wordlessly. I was curious about what exactly he had done to them, but I didn't ask. 

After a time, there was an alert on both the screens of our devices, prompting us along the pathway to meet Frieza. 

After returning once more to the maze of the station (but this time with a map and diagram to lead us), passing by squadrons of aliens big and small, we began approaching a large doorway at the end of one hall. The barrier itself was split down the middle, so I assumed it was two doors that would recede on either side when prompted with movement, the same behaviour as every other door. However, behind this one was the mass of energy that had been hanging on my peripheral senses the entire time so far. Frieza was only the threshold of the room away.

I hadn't noticed Father had stopped and I nearly bowled him over. Thankfully, he was very sturdy, and I was the only one who got thrown off-balance. 

“Watch where you're going. You need to be alert here, Trunks,” he said. 

“I – I was, I just wasn't expecting you to stop randomly like that,” I replied.

“Pay closer attention in the future. These doors are currently only set to open when triggered by someone on the inside. We have to wait here until Frieza grants us entry.”

Instead of answering, I just nodded. Perhaps I would've given Father a verbal answer, had the galactic overlord not been waiting on the other side of the door. My voice was already coming out more anxious sounding than normal.

“These people will take advantage of any carelessness on our part,” Father said. “I know you're unfamiliar with the surroundings, but it's best to appear like you aren't some ungainly stripling while we're under the PTO's radar.”

I was considering muttering a response under my breath, but he was giving me a look from the corner of his eye so I decided against it. His attention was then drawn away as the door opened ahead of us.

When we entered the room my eye was instantly drawn to a large, dark egg, floating in mid-air. It hovered in front of a massive window that looked into space; both the fringes of the station and the planet were visible near the edges of the frame. The rest was endless blackness, seeming to almost suck the light out of the room.

My brain was trying to place the purpose of the egg when it suddenly rotated, revealing that it was in fact a hover pod. 

And in it sat something I could never have expected.

My eye was first drawn to the long, powerful-looking tail, draped over the side of the pod like some giant pink serpent. It tapered to a dagger-shaped end that moved marginally from side to side every few seconds. I trailed my gaze along to the owner of the tail, surprised to find that Frieza was, in fact, very different than I'd pictured. 

He was only the size of a child, but nothing else about him was reminiscent of youth or innocence. His ruby red eyes held years, maybe centuries or more, but the sheer alien shape of his features made it impossible to guess exactly how old he was. His build was lithe and androgynous, different enough from the average humanoid to be definably male or female, and his chest was covered by a purple version of the standard PTO armour. His arms were a flesh colour like his tail, but his hands and his face were lilac; his skin looked like it would be cold or poisonous to touch. Two wide, pink lines descended down from his eyes to his jaw, his lips the same dark shade as his nails, and his whole skull was framed by some sort of bone armour. The entirety of the top of his head was set with a violet jewel, which like the rest of his exoskeleton appearance, I assumed also occurred naturally. Two polished horns, dark as pitch, protruded from his cranium, not curved like an animal's but sharp like a demon's. 

Overall, he was very saurian, but a far cry from resembling the lizards back home.

His eyes, coldly intelligent, raked over us, but he made no effort towards eye contact, instead assessing us as if we were inanimate objects. Then, suddenly, a focus came into his eyes, like he recognized us as actual beings standing before him, and he smiled. I realized instantly that I preferred him to make no expression at all. 

“Ah, my Saiyan Prince,” said Frieza, his voice high and silvery, but not pleasant. “It's been a while.” There was a moment of confusion until I realized he was looking at my father while he spoke. 

“Oh! I seem to have forgotten that you were made a king officially since last I saw you. A natural mistake, you look the same now as you did then,” Frieza corrected.

“I could say the same about you,” replied Father. 

He stepped further into the room, approaching within several feet of Frieza. I followed, resisting the urge to trail behind, and instead stayed at Father's side. My gaze kept being drawn to Frieza's strange, alien form, though I tried not to make it obvious I was staring. His ki felt oppressive, standing so close. 

“It's been years, hasn't it? Longer still since you completed your last mission on my behalf. It appears you've done well for yourself.” Though Frieza voiced the words like compliments of some sort, I could tell it was just a game of hollow pleasantries. 

“In the eyes of some,” replied Father. I glanced at him, curious as to what I'd see. 

His expression was steel. Though he was normally impassive, I'd learned to read his small glimpses of emotion. Now, I could read nothing. He was completely closed off. And unlike me, he seemed to be able to hold Frieza's eye contact.

“It seems like just yesterday I heard about your infant son. They grow so fast, don't they?” Frieza said, his eyes shifting directly towards me for the first time. He caught my gaze directly as he spoke.

Frieza studied me like I had a foreign language written all over my face. I didn't understand it until his next enquiry, which was more direct. 

“I've never seen a Saiyan with hair your colour. Your eyes are odd as well. Do you suffer from some form of albinism or birth defect?” he asked.

I was taken aback by the oddity of the question. I'd never been asked such a thing, and was definitely not expecting something so out of place – especially not in conversation with the self-proclaimed galactic emperor. Sure, it was rare for a Saiyan to have hair that wasn't black, but not impossible. And my skin was a sun-weathered topaz; I was far from any semblance of albinism. Then again, I doubt that Frieza knew much about how Saiyan physiology worked or even cared to know... excluding the oddball question I'd been asked just now.

I became aware of an uncomfortable silence in the room, that both Father and Frieza were staring, waiting for me to respond. It must have been a longer moment than I thought, because Frieza spoke again before I could think of what to say.

“Boy. I'm asking you if you are congenitally defective.” His voice held a undertone of irritation, so I schooled what must have been a flabbergasted expression back into neutral. 

“No, I'm not,” I answered plainly. 

He pursed his lips for a few seconds, then apparently satisfied, let out a small hum before directing his attention to my father once again. 

“I expect that you've been keeping the Saiyans under control,” drawled Frieza, abruptly changing topic. “They've been serving me well on the battlefield. But how is that rock ball of a planet functioning under your rule? Your reentry into the public eye of your species years ago was a bit... unconventional, no? Surely, there must still be some lingering dissension over the new trade agreements signed after what happened with your father.”

“The people respect me. The agreements drew a tighter leash, but the people also understand that conscription was necessary to maintain proper relations between us and the PTO. I cleaned up the mess my father left behind. Any insurgents were stamped out long ago,” Father said.

“I see. You truly have done what your father could not. You've come a long way from your own little tryst with insurgency, hmm? And your people – what views do they have towards your son? I was under the impression that his mother was not a Saiyan,” said Frieza.

“She's not. But the boy has proved himself Saiyan enough – there are few who can contend with his battle prowess, and he is famed across the planet for his skills with and without a blade.”

I wasn't sure if I was allowed to feel happy about Father's extolment of me for political gain , but I did anyway, though I kept it to myself. It's not like I got compliments from him every day (or even once a month, for that matter). 

“Well, then. His future does indeed seem promising. But for now, Vegeta, I would like to discuss matters with you alone. Send the boy away,” said Frieza. 

I looked at Father in moderate surprise. He looked back and gave me a nod. 

“Go,” he said, so I inclined my head towards Frieza's direction in a shallow, polite bow and then turned to leave. 

Once I was out the doors, I was clueless to where I was meant to go. I assumed I should go back and wait in the room I'd been given until further notice. They'd hadn't exactly given me instructions for what to do, or what not to do. Theoretically, that meant I could waltz around the station until I reached a restricted area, or somebody finally noticed my aimless wandering. 

I doubted that would be the last time I'd speak with Frieza, but it seemed like he and Father needed to clear up some old business that didn't involve me first. 

It wasn't a long trek until I'd returned to my and Father's room, which seemed bigger when I was the only occupant taking up space. 

I sat on one of the beds, determining that it was only marginally more comfortable than the ones on the ship. At least there was more room to stretch out. 

I laid down and stared up at the ceiling, then shifted to get more comfortable. My armour wasn't designed for relaxing, so I sat up again and clipped it off. I wound up depositing it at the foot of the bed along with my sword. 

After a few minutes of dead silence and counting dust specs, I closed my eyes. I supposed this qualified as one of the boring parts of such a trip. 

At some point, I drifted off into a light sleep. 

 

\---

 

I awoke later, feeling refreshed instead of more lethargic (as some naps tended to do). I laid there with my eyes closed. 

Father still hadn't returned. I could sense his energy, still near Frieza's, but they seemed to have moved to a different location. I didn't think I'd slept long, but I couldn't be sure.

_Alright. I talked with Frieza, I took a nap. Now what?_

I continued to remain motionless for a little while, considering my options. Then a thought occurred to me: Mom's package was still back on the ship. And according to her unusual terms, I could now peruse it to my leisure. 

I had spoken with Frieza first like Mom wanted, although it wasn't like the PTO leader had said anything life-changing. In fact, he seemed more interested in Father than he was in me. I didn't know why Mom had set her conditions revolving around my talking with the commander. 

Dodoria had mentioned that if we needed anything brought to us, we should ask a low-level soldier. I didn't really have a ton of trust in the people here, so I didn't think it'd be harmful for me to retrieve the package myself. For now, at least, there was nothing else I was meant to be doing. And with the scouter, I wouldn't wind up lost in the station either.

I got up out of bed, about to retrieve my armour, but then I paused. Did I really need to take it with me? Its bulk was inconvenient sometimes, and it advertised who I was to everyone that walked by me. There wasn't any armour here in the room to use instead; however, there was the lighter, older models back on my ship mixed in with the upgraded ones. 

I decided to go in just my bodysuit, gloves, and boots – though I took my sword as well. I wasn't going to be gone long, but I preferred to err on the side of caution. 

I had taken the scouter off, now I replaced it so the screen was fixed within my vision. There was a plot of the station available, which showed the path I needed to take to get back to the docking bay. 

I left the room, took a quick look around, and made off to my destination. 

To my luck, I didn't get turned around once. When I reached the docking bay, I was again impressed by its size, but I didn't slow down to stare this time. Nobody gave me looks either. 

The inside of the ship was fairly dark, but a few lights switched on in response to my movement. It wasn't hard for me to find my old room and rifle through the drawer, locating the package with ease and tucking it under my arm. I left the other things where they were, making one other stop to grab myself a more streamlined set of armour that lacked shoulder or hip pads. I replaced my sword strap over top and then left the ship as it was. 

It took me longer to get back to the barracks than I'd predicted. Probably because my head was in the clouds, wondering what Mom had given me and what Father and Frieza were talking about. 

Once I reached the hallway to my room, I shifted my grip on the package. I was pretty curious to know what was in it, but hadn't a clue as to what it could be – maybe it was something important Mom had invented and wanted to keep secret? 

I was so lost in thought that I didn't pay attention to where I was going and I bumped past someone.

“Watch it, pretty boy,” a male voice growled. 

“And who the hell are you?” I growled right back, my focus returning. Just because I was out of my element didn't mean I was going to take shit from Frieza's soldiers. 

Our eyes met and I balked. The guy was clearly a Saiyan, complete with a tail wrapped around his waist, and the only one of my kind I'd seen anywhere on the station so far besides Father. 

And despite the anger lacing his expression, it seemed I'd encountered yet another of my kind who looked just like Kakarot. _Seeing two Saiyans with the same face is just luck – but three?_

“You must be new here, kid, so I'll let you off easy. I don't know what you're doing wandering around this area, but I'm gonna make something clear right now – don't fuck with me and I don't fuck with you. Got it?” the man said, clearly not the type to waste brain cells directed towards diplomatic solutions.

I was going to tell him off for talking to his prince like that when I realized I'd donned regular armour. He had no idea who I was, and he probably didn't even know I was a Saiyan, for that matter.

“Let me make something clear to _you,_ ” I said levelly. “You're the one getting let off easy, since you don't seem to know who I am. I'm a Saiyan, like you. And King Vegeta is my father.”

The man's face twisted in confusion. “ _You're a Saiyan?_ Don't make me laugh, you -” he stopped, having studied my face while he was speaking. His expression shifted into surprise. 

“Oh – oh. I knew Vegeta was coming here with his son, but – uh. I should've noticed right away. Shit. Sorry.” He stepped back, returning me a polite level of personal space, although he didn't sound very sorry.

Looking at him longer, I could see that there were, in fact, slight differences between his face and that of Turles or Kakarot. This man's features were more rugged and he had darker skin than Kakarot, though not as dark as Turles, and the left side of his face was marked with a pronounced set of scars shaped like an 'x.' He also appeared a bit older than both the other two, though I couldn't be exactly sure.

“I can understand where your mistake was, though I doubt other people appreciate...” I trailed off when I noticed the man had put his hands to his head and stumbled back a few steps. _I didn't collide with him that hard, did I?_

“Uh, are you okay?” I ventured carefully.

The man waved a hand dismissively, though he was clearly still in some sort of pain. 

“I'm fine,” he said through gritted teeth, and I wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or not. “Nevermind me. Sorry I bothered you.” 

He turned and beginning to walk away, though he was still hunched over and clutching his head with one hand. 

“Hey, wait...” I protested weakly, though I didn't follow. A trio of officers brushed by him and obscured my view of the man, and I moved aside to clear the hallway for the group. By the time they'd passed me, the strange Saiyan had rounded the corner out of my sight. 

I shook my head and continued on my way. “Weird,” I muttered to myself. 

I felt myself relax once I'd returned to my room. I'd already checked from a distance that Father hadn't returned yet, nor was he nearby. I had a little time to investigate Mom's parcel.

I plopped down on the centre of the bed, setting the thing down in front of me. When I'd carried it, there had been minor shifting of the objects inside, but nothing audible enough to suggest what it was. Either it took up most of the box's interior space, or it was soft and didn't make much noise. It wasn't particularly heavy, either – actually, it weighed almost nothing. 

Itching to sate my curiosity, I decided to go ahead and open it. It wasn't like my mother would know if I'd broken her strange terms (if I was indeed breaking them). 

The brown paper peeled and shredded away easily, revealing an equally plain box with a top, unsurprisingly. I pulled the lid off and inspected the contents. 

There were three envelopes inside, all different sizes. They smelled like the library back home, or like the old books themselves. I chose the medium one, undoing the twine that held it closed. I then shuffled it sideways, using my thumb to pull out a few of the paper-thin, rectangular objects inside. 

They were photographs. On inspection I noticed they all seemed to be of Mom – but as a child. 

It was undeniably her. No one else had hair and eyes like that. She was chubby faced, round eyed and endearing, smiling in every picture. 

Of course, I had no idea why her childhood photos were such a big secret. _This doesn't make sense._ She was never tightlipped about her younger years at all. If I ever asked, she actually enjoyed reminiscing about those days. So what was this all about, then?

I only had a few pulled out, and as I was going to remove the rest I heard – and sensed - someone approach my doorway. It wasn't Father. 

I quickly stuffed the photos and the box under the pillows, vowing to get to the bottom of it later. 

The person knocked twice and I moved up the door. When it slid open, it revealed to me a tall man with blue skin, and long green hair woven into a braid that cascaded down his shoulder. His facial features were rather effeminate; however, his build was anything but. A tiara of sorts caught the light from where it rested on his forehead, as well as a pair of earrings that matched it. The man's gold eyes rested on mine as he assessed me, the same as Dodoria and Frieza had. 

“You're the Saiyan prince, are you not?” he asked. 

“Yes...” I said.

“Come with me. Frieza has requested an evaluation for you,” he continued.

“An evaluation?”

“He'd like to see a demonstration of what you can do,” the man explained. I wondered why Frieza hadn't 'requested' this earlier, but I felt rested enough now anyway.

I stepped outside, adjusting the strap of my sword. “You're going to guide me? I thought that's what the scouters were for.”

“Normally, yes. I was asked to take you personally – to ensure you arrive without mishaps,” the man said. “Follow me.”

I did as he'd bid me, trailing after the tall man as we headed off to... somewhere. I wondered if by 'demonstration,' Frieza had implied that I was going to be fighting. I'd gladly do so, but I was curious as to who, or what, I'd be up against.


	9. Chapter 9

After an indeterminable amount of time of being led around the ship, in the rough direction of Frieza and Father's auras, I finally reached an area that was less congested with personnel. There was a monolithic, rectangular steel door, bigger than ones I'd seen previously, that barred the way; the tall man who'd guided me moved towards it first. It opened at his presence and I trailed after. 

The room we entered was very dimly lit. The man waited by the entrance area and let me explore ahead of him – although admittedly, there wasn't much to look at. 

It was extremely spacious, with wide walls and a high ceiling that would allow for a measure of flight. When my eyes adjusted focus, I could see patterns of thin lines ingrained in the ground, like the floor was made of interconnecting panels. 

I could sense Father and Frieza very close by, but I couldn't see them. Judging by what I thought the room was, I assumed the two men were watching me from somewhere on a screen. 

I turned to gaze back at the man who'd guided me here. He gave me an absentminded nod and then left, the door shutting behind him and trapping me in the room alone. I had no doubts that this 'evaluation' was going to be combat now.

Though I flared my senses, I failed to detect any opponents in the room yet. I was about to call out into the shallow darkness until I heard a slight click, like a speaker awakening, then an automated voice followed. 

“Welcome to the combat simulator. Preset derivatives initiated. You have thirty seconds until the variables are launched. Stand by.”

Okay. I had thirty seconds to ready myself until something happened. Presumably, after that time was when the variables – my opponents or obstacles – appeared. I wasn't really worried, but a few tiny flutters in my stomach began as a bit of familiar battle anticipation emerged.

I subconsciously kept track of my time limit, and right on cue, when it was up a faint scuttling noise alerted my ears. It sounded like it was coming from multiple directions. I could see nothing yet. 

But then it seemed the bravest of my unknown opponents stepped forward, revealing its contorted, green body and bulbous eyes. Saibamen. 

The creatures were far below my skill level, and thus easy to deal with. I didn't even bother to draw my sword. Instead I set myself into a lazy stance, preparing myself to dispose of the things. If I used my full power, I could probably dispel them with my ki alone – but of course, I wasn't about to reveal the extent of my strength uneccesarily.

I heard one of the creatures launch at me from behind so I dropped, grabbing it in midair above me and throwing it at the two who'd appeared in front of me. The scramble lasted only a moment as a horde of them crawled over their fallen comrades, intending to take me down up close and personal. 

Saibamen weren't all that intelligent, but they did know enough that their only advantage was numbers – it was clear that their plan was to overcome me with the mass of such. However, while I wasn't going to use my ace card, using just kicks and punches would not only be dull, it would take a lot longer. I could either execute a few well-times ki blasts, or use my sword to hack them up. 

I chose to save the latter option for later and went with the former, standing to my full height and then summoning a sphere of energy around myself, expanding it a moment later until it struck the Saibamen. I was rewarded with most of them being turned to dust, and what was left was a scalded assemblage of limbs. Because of the manner of my attack, there wasn't even a speck of blood that I could see. 

I waited a moment to listen for more sounds. There seemed to be a few stragglers scuttling around in the dark, but they hadn't approached me yet. It had barely been a minute and I'd overcome them. The beat of my pulse had hardly wavered.

“Is that all?” I called into the room, my voice echoing ever so slightly. “I haven't even moved from my spot.” I punctuated my statement by crossing my arms. I didn't really think the test was over, but I couldn't help letting my cocky side show. 

It was then that I heard another noise – something much larger than a regular Saibaman – shuffle through the shadows. 

Returning my arms to their places at my sides, yet not entering a battle stance again, I waited once more for my opponent to move first. I could sense its energy in front of me, giving me a broad idea of where it was, but using my natural five senses I could've determined that anyway. Its footsteps echoed, but the directional origin of its scent could be pinpointed easily. It smelled like a Saibaman, but the bulk I predicted it to have meant it was probably genetically altered to be a challenge to greater warriors. 

I summoned a bright ball of energy to my hand – not as an attack, but to get a look at my new foe. 

“There you are,” I said to myself, eyeing the grotesque beast ahead of me. It was three times my size, twisted with misshaped muscle and wielding rather sizable claws. 

I let the energy ball hover in in one hand for a moment while I used my other to reach for my sword. Instead of unsheathing it, I loosened the scabbard strap, pulled it over my head and laid the entire contraption on the ground. The creature watched me as I did so. 

After giving the encased blade a nudge with my foot just hard enough to push it to the sidelines, I turned my attention back to the mutated Saibaman. It made what was probably meant to be an intimidating growl from its throat, taking a few steps in my direction.

I only smirked before fuelling my energy orb with a little extra ki, causing to flare in brightness as I tossed it into the air. The beast, at first wary that it was an attack, followed the sphere's motion with its eyes – until it too late realized the pain from the sudden brightness was meant to stun and distract. 

I let the ki ball snuff out in an instant after that before lunging at the creature.

 

\---

 

An exciting series of minutes later, I was walking back to retrieve my discarded sword, not minding the minor speckles of blood newly decorating my arms. I was unhurt, though I couldn't say the same for the beast I'd been dealing with. 

As I knelt to pick up and adjust my weapon to its usual spot, two red lights blinked on near a door at the end of the room opposite to the one I'd used to enter. The door opened, and though no one waited at the other side, I assumed I was meant to go through it. From this distance, it looked like an elevator. 

I stepped back over the fallen bodies of Saibamen (or what was left of them), making my way to the exit. 

Once I was inside, the elevator door shut and I felt the floor beneath me move. First upwards, and then off to the side. It was less than thirty seconds before it stopped to rest at a large room I guessed was the observatory. 

The new proximity of both my father's and Frieza, as well as them coming into view as I stepped out of the elevator, confirmed my guess.

I gave a short bow when I saw Frieza; I was still unsure how to greet him. Both he and Father had been standing with their backs to me, waiting near a set of screens organized into a grid, although they'd turned their attentions to me as I'd entered the room. 

Without his hover pod, the PTO commander seemed an even smaller figure, though certainly no less daunting. He seemed to appraise me for a moment before turning his gaze to Father. 

“Vegeta. Leave. I wish to speak to your son alone,” Frieza said.

Father gave a single nod before moving to do as asked, not hesitating in the least. However, he did make brief eye contact with me, trying to bestow some hidden message or support that I was left to interpret. 

The blue-skinned man, Zarbon, whom I hadn't noticed at first, had been waiting by another door across the room. Father strode past him to exit, but the two made no recognition of each other. 

A moment later, Frieza and I were alone (excluding Zarbon's watchful presence nearby).

I almost thought it was amusing that if Frieza wanted to speak in private, he would order everyone else out of the room instead of simply changing location himself. Of course, it wasn't an unfamiliar action; Father and I had done the same before. Presently, though, I was in too much discomfort to find the similarity entertaining. I was not easily intimidated by anyone, but the man before me wasn't just anyone. 

“The Saibamen seemed to be of little challenge for you,” began Frieza. “In fact, I'd say you enjoyed yourself.”

“I _am_ a Saiyan, Lord Frieza. Loving battle isn't merely a stereotype of ours,” I replied.

Frieza smirked. “How right you are. There are many of your kind who are far less conservative in showing it as well.” His eyes grazed over the faint blood spattering on my forearms. I couldn't tell whether he'd expected there to be more, or if he was disgusted with the mess altogether. 

“But then again,” he continued, “regardless of how early such blood-thirst was instilled, the idealism of youth hasn't left you yet. You're still quite young for a member of your species, correct? Let alone mine or any other that lives beyond a Standard Cycle.”

“My age doesn't mean I'll bend under the weight of future experience.”

“I applaud you your optimism,” he said cynically. Then he went on after a moment of silence. 

“Your name has slipped my mind, boy.”

“It's Trunks.”

“That sounds nothing like a Saiyan name,” he said, obviously bemused.

“It's not. My mother chose it.”

“Interesting. She is still alive...?”

“... Yes.”

“Hmm. Strange your father didn't select one of his own kind for an heir. On what sort of backwater planet did he manage to dig up another compatible species?” Frieza asked.

I didn't think it was safe to answer with the truth. “I don't know. I think it was destroyed.”

“I see... Look up at me, boy.”

I did so, uncomfortably. It was hard to feel confident when his cold, shining cherry eyes were prying you open. He hardly blinked; I felt ironically small in the face of the petite dictator. 

“Whom do you take after more, do you think?” he said.

“I -”

“It's rude to look away when you're speaking with someone.”

I forced myself to hold eye contact. 

“Well, it's not hard to ascertain where you get your manners. The only Saiyan-like thing I've noticed about you beyond your ability to fight,” he noted.

I wasn't sure how to interpret that, so I merely shifted on my feet. 

“Hmm... But perhaps that's not quite correct,” said Frieza, crossing his arms. “There's something about the face that's very Vegeta – wouldn't you agree, Zarbon?”

“Positively so, my lord,” replied Zarbon, clicking his tongue in distaste. It was obvious that Father and the blue-skinned man had old, bad blood going on. I wasn't surprised.

“You see, boy,” slithered Frieza's voice, “my father is also a king, I followed in his footsteps. That makes me a prince as well, though of course, I'm of a vastly different sort than you. That makes us similar, in a way. “ He smiled. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added: 

“You don't have any siblings, do you...?”

I shook my head.

“No? I thought not. You aren't missing much,” he chuckled under his breath. “I'm actually surprised _you_ even exist, knowing your father as I do... When I look at him, I see the same man I did back then. He just coated it with whatever ridiculous facade he needed to live with himself while I was away. I'm the only one who knows him well enough to be honest.”

I had no response to his words. Even if I had had something to say, I wasn't sure what kind of answer Frieza was looking for or expecting. I already knew about Father's past... to a sort of detached extent, I supposed. Most of my fishing around was a response to wanting to know what history had to do with me, not invading my father's past beyond that.

“Do you understand the point I'm trying to make? I took over from my sire, and someday you will be expected to do the same with yours. And though they say the son takes after the father...” Frieza paused, tapping his fingers against his bicep. “What I want, Trunks, is for you to prove that you're capable of doing for me what Vegeta has done. I want you to demonstrate that you can be his equal – or greater, if need be. You are the future of your race, the future of relations between the Saiyans and the universe I own.”

I hesitated, mulling over my response carefully before uttering it. “I understand. I'm aware that your family and mine have... history, tracing back to my grandfather. I was raised to fulfil the expectations of my future responsibility. I can be whoever is needed for the sake of my people, and to further the interests of both the Saiyans and the PTO.”

Frieza offered me a cold smile. “Excellent. I look forward to the years ahead. But as for now... It is obvious you know at least something about combat. But Saibamen are no great feat. You had no need to even keep your sword nearby. May I see it?” 

It felt like an order under the guise of a polite request. Nevertheless, I acquiesced and unsheathed my prized possession and held it out for Frieza to inspect. I could see my own reflection distorted on the polished surface of the steel as it turned under the light. 

Frieza took it and ran a digit up and down the blade, fearless of its edge. 

“At first I thought it odd,” mused Frieza, “a Saiyan using a weapon such as this. Much too cultured a fighting style for my impression of your species.” 

He pulled his finger away to examine it. A small cut, made visible by a speck of blood, marked his lilac skin where he'd been running it along my sword. 

“But I suppose its graceful appearance belies its use. A finely crafted weapon, to be sure.” He handed it back and I returned it to its scabbard. 

“Once again returning to my earlier statement – the Saibamen were too easily dispatched. I wish to see how you handle yourself against a real opponent,” said Frieza. “I could pit you up against Zarbon or Dodoria, though that would be no fun. And you've probably been up against your father enough times for it to be too familiar. However, there is one other on this ship besides myself who can contend with you.”

I raised an eyebrow, awaiting whatever else he decided to throw at me.

Frieza reached a hand up to activate his scouter, pausing until I presumed he'd found the contact he wanted. 

“Are you awake? I require you for a sparring match,” he spoke to whoever was on the other line. There was a brief pause. “I thought so. You know where to go.” Frieza then turned his attention back to me. 

“Take the elevator back to the combat simulator. Wait there. Your opponent will arrive soon,” he instructed.

I nodded, turning around to go back the way I'd come in. Frieza had returned to looking at the screens, hitting a few buttons on the control panel below them. As the door of the lift shut, I had a fleeting thought of curiosity about where Father had went, or if he'd be coming back to watch my next match. 

Another brief wait and I was stepping into the combat room once more. I noticed that all the remnants of the Saibamen were gone, the arena as clean as when I'd first seen it. 

Since the room was so quiet, and I didn't know how long exactly I'd have to wait, I decided to walk to one of the walls and sit against it. I had by back leaned on it and was cross-legged, the only sound my breathing and steady heartbeat. 

I closed my eyes and extended my senses. The life forms of everyone on the ship shimmered into my awareness, thousands of bright points, some bigger, some smaller. Though I didn't make an effort to distinguish any familiar ones, Frieza's energy stood out like an ink spill on white paper. My father's was obvious as well, calm as a pile of embers at rest, though I knew his energy could be summoned to a blaze in an instant. 

I was a little disappointed that I wouldn't be fighting him. It had been some time since I'd had the chance to spar with him properly – to compare our relative progress. Most (probably all) advice I got from him was in regards to fighting technique, and it was only during combat that he'd offer it. It was one of the scarce ways we had connection. True, I'd spent time with him during our travel, but it wasn't the same kind of acknowledgement I wanted. I suppose I took after him when it came to wanting to be recognized; or perhaps it was just a side effect of how I was raised. 

Most of everything I was taught was from my parents. If I were ever to raise a child eventually, I assumed the same values would continue on through the generations. However, for the longest time, we'd all thought these values would end with mine. Mom originally hypothesized that us half-bloods wouldn't be able to have children, due to what were common side-effects of our unique mixed heritage. But since Gohan was of the age where he might actually plan to have a kid sooner or later, he offered to have himself tested. Lo and behold, mom's original predictions were wrong. 

The discovery of such a thing meant I'd be expected to carry on the royal family one day. I was selective of my social circle and I had no current interest in a partner anyway; I had a long life ahead of me to think about that so I never dwelled on it. But Frieza's insistence that I think about the role I'd inherit inevitably had me going down that train of thought. Though it wouldn't be anytime soon, would I ever want children? Or for that matter, did I really want to follow in my father's footsteps and eventually have to raise a successor? 

Although I was part of Father's legacy, was it really my choice? Was it fair to subject another from birth to such a thing? My whole life, I'd been aware there was a greater scheme of things that limited my control over my path. I knew that deep down, the nature of having another side – my mother's – offered something else. But I'd never considered I had the means to seize it, until now. I'd been in my father's shadow so far, but perhaps it was time for me to consider forging my own fate. 

My reverie was interrupted by the sound of someone entering the combat room. I opened my eyes and stood, my coherency to the present rushing back. All my thoughts could wait a little longer. 

When my opponent drew close enough, I realized how familiar they – he – looked. 

It was the Saiyan that I'd bumped in the hall, the one with Kakarot's face.

“You?” I said. The man merely raised an eyebrow, expression unreadable. In the lighting, his scar stood out clearly against his skin tone. 

“Welcome to the combat simulator,” came the automated voice once again from overhead. “Derivatives locked. Stand by for thirty seconds.”

I moved closer to the centre of the room, but made no other obvious motions. The man copied them without breaking eye contact. I could tell he wasn't trying to intimidate me with his gaze, but was instead assessing what little he could before the fight began. He did spare a quick glance at the hilt of my sword, visible over my shoulder, probably calculating what it would take to get me to draw it. 

“I'm not gonna hold back on you, kid,” he said as the time limit drew to mere seconds. 

“Just what I wanted to hear,” I retorted, setting myself into a fighting posture. 

The timer was up and I moved first. 

I began with a flurry of punches, aimed to test his reaction speed. He dodged all but the last without raising an arm to block, catching the last blow with his forearm. However, because he'd stepped to the outside, his position enabled him to catch my wrist and push with his other hand above my elbow, intending to twist my arm into over-extension and lock me in a submission hold. 

Before he could do so I flipped my body upside-down into the air, changing the angle of my arm so he couldn't follow through, though he still had a grip on me. I thrust both my hands forward and let off a pair of quick but weak ki shots at point-blank, causing him to let go so he could attempt to block; he was too close to dodge. I completed my flip and landed back on my feet, now with some distance between us. 

Wasting only a second, he launched back at me with a roundhouse kick to the head, which I dodged under. He followed up with a back-kick that caught me in the chest, but I wasn't dazed enough that I couldn't evade his next series of blows. 

We exchanged punches and kicks, neither of us dealing the other anything more than a glancing hit. 

Even with what I'd seen just far, I could see that the man's fighting style had its similarities to Father's; they both focused heavily on offence, but were tactical as well. This man also didn't seem accustomed to fighting someone that could match his speed or block all of his attacks, but neither was I used to sparring with someone so different to how the Sons fought – this man didn't fight just to enjoy himself, he fought to win like it'd been ingrained in him. I supposed that if I wanted to win, I'd have to stop pulling my punches and get serious. 

It was becoming clear that this man was better than me in hand-to-hand combat. Even so, I could give myself an advantage if I used the weapon I'd grown up training with. 

When he pulled back just enough distance so that my reach wouldn't tangle, I relied purely on muscle memory and yanked out my sword, swinging it in a wide arc and retracting my range only slightly so that there was no possibility of me cutting him right in half should he fail to dodge. Even in his surprise, he managed to leap back to receive no more than a scratch that didn't quite pierce through his breastplate, drawing no blood. The cut served as a warning for the skill I could unleash. 

The man now kept his distance, evaluating the new shift in the battle for a minute before I saw him smirk. 

“Now we're talking,” he said. I smirked back, taking a new stance.


	10. Chapter 10

I was now the one controlling the flow of the battle, as the other Saiyan had become limited to attempting decisive hits while trying to avoid my sword at the same time. 

If I wanted to, I could power up to Super Saiyan and defeat him quickly. However, I thought it would be best to use as little ki as possible to overcome my adversary, as challenging as that would prove to be. Although it did make the fight a little more interesting than it would've been otherwise.

Though I'd trained myself to be ambidextrous over the years, I'd been born right-handed, so wielding my sword with that side was proving to be more trouble for my opponent. Any striking at a close range was too difficult, so he'd been reduced to energy blasts to keep his distance. One had grazed my shoulder, but I'd dodged or deflected the rest. The other Saiyan had an equal amount of minor scrapes. 

He had flown himself into the air, still firing ki shots in my direction one after another. He wasn't taking the time to charge up anything incredibly powerful, but they were enough to slow me down from doing much but avoid them. 

When the next one came, I let my aura flare up a little as I formed my own attack and fired it back, causing the two energy spheres to collide in a bright flash. In the momentary visual distraction, I flew into the air through the receding light and body-checked my opponent, sending him flying into the far wall. At the last second before impact, he rotated his body so his feet hit first and he launched back at me, discharging another onslaught of attacks to keep me on the defensive. 

When he was close enough, instead of staying directly in front, he used a sudden burst of speed to appear behind me and attempt a trio of punches. Sensing his movements, I instinctively evaded the first two attacks and caught his arm on the third, letting more of my true strength seep through. I swiped my sword at his chest area, cutting deep enough this time to draw a little blood. I released his arm and kicked him down so he was sent back to the floor. I descended from the air swiftly after, but kept my distance still. 

He stood up, and I could see he was finally beginning to breathe a little harder. His wound was only seeping through the slash in his armour, but the more movements he made now would just serve to worsen the injury. He had the option to bait me in or somehow pull something out of his sleeve to end things quickly. 

So far, he was just assessing me, holding a hand to his torso where I'd cut him as I advanced one step at a time, waiting to see what he'd do. While it seemed he wasn't as strong as me, he definitely wasn't stupid. I'd lost to people before from my own overconfidence.

When I stopped a few metres away from him, he put himself on guard. 

“I'll admit, you're better than I'd thought,” he said, but there was still a measure of self-assurance in his voice. “Especially since you started using that sword. I don't think you were half as strong without it.”

I smirked, recognizing what he was trying to do. “The sword is just an extension of me. Only as good as the one who uses it,” I explained. 

I darted forward and slammed the hilt into his forehead, making him let out a surprised grunt of pain. Then I kicked him in the chest, making him stumble backwards and I took a swing at him with my blade hand. He recovered just in time to grab my arm before it came down on him, so I used my left hand to throw a punch which he also stopped by grabbing me.

Our arms were locked, one fist clenching into the others', him pushing back against my sword hand to avoid the edge that had gotten dangerously close. 

Before he could move to break our impasse I shifted my weight and kicked down at his leg, landing a solid blow just above his kneecap. His support gave out on that side as he slipped, leaving a momentary open space for me to swing my sword straight down at him. 

It was a single opening of complete vulnerability, and the blade was on a direct path to sever through his jugular veins and spinal cord. I hesitated. 

I 'd hesitated, avoiding my usual decisiveness in my swing, because I knew if I followed through he'd be decapitated. Not only had I not killed anyone before, I wasn't about to start doing so like this.

Unfortunately for me, the man had anticipated – no, counted on – my indecision and used it to his advantage immediately, jerking one arm up to fire an energy ball at my right hand. It was enough to make me loosen my grip, but not drop the weapon altogether.

At least, until he used a sudden burst of strength to whirl up and kick me in the ribs, making me release the sword as both I and my weapon went in opposite directions. 

I managed to catch myself and skid to a halt, but it only took me a split second to realize that the other man had darted over and picked up my blade. 

At that moment, I was very tempted to break my self-instigated rules, go Super Saiyan and take the damn thing back by sheer force. Though my logical brain won out shortly after, reminding me that blowing the top off my family's secret for the sake of a single match was probably not a good idea. However, even if I had chosen to power up fully, I was well aware that the sword would easily still cut me, even if its new wielder was not as versed in how to utilize it.

He moved at me quickly then, swinging it with complete intent (and obviously little regards to if he accidentally cut _my_ head off). He didn't use it with quite the same precision as myself, but a weapon was a weapon – and he didn't handle it like he was wholly unfamiliar. 

While I was completely distracted with not getting sliced, he managed to offset my balance with two energy blasts, one to the chest and one to the leg. They didn't hurt all that bad, but when he sent a thrust at my stomach that I dodged by moving to the side, he was low enough to swivel and kick my feet out from under me. 

My back hit the floor, but I couldn't roll to my feet because there was a rather sharp weapon suddenly an inch away from my face. 

There was just the sound of our breathing and heartbeats for a moment before the other Saiyan grinned at me.

“You would've won,” he said, poking the tip of the sword into the hollow of my throat. I felt a pinprick of pain there as just its weight resting on my skin drew blood. “I thought your father would've taught you mercy has consequences.”

I scowled at him until he lowered the weapon and backed away, giving me room to return to my feet. 

“You didn't use your full power, either,” he said. I tried not to look surprised at the fact that he'd known. 

“Frieza can't hear us in here unless you're really loud,” he clarified for a reason I wasn't quite sure of. He then shifted his grip down to the crossguard and offered the hilt of the sword back to me. 

“That's some good technique for someone your age. Although your lack of years gaining battle experience is what cost you the match,” he said. 

_If he's so ungrateful to keep his head on his shoulders..._ I kept scowling at him, though it lessened a little as I took the sword back. As I cleaned the small amount of blood off it, wiping the flat of the blade on my already sullied gloves, the man kept talking. 

“Though that begs the question – how'd you get your tail cut off, kid?” he quieried.

I started in surprise. “Uh – I was born without one.”

“Born without one?”

“I'm only half Saiyan,” I said. I returned my sword to its scabbard.

“Oh. That's what I thought. You don't exactly look ordinary and I had heard stories, though I wasn't sure how much truth to them there was until now. I know royalty rear their kids from birth, but it tripped me up that you didn't consider yourself a bastard,” he clarified.

“What?” I blurted.

“Your father named you a legitimate heir, right? Even though you're not a pure-blood?”

For as long as I could remember, there was never a time when I hadn't been a prince, so the man's questions baffled me. “I've always been his rightful successor,” I said, having no other response. 

“Hmm. Yeah, I guess you're right, as long as you're strong enough. Can't say I ever expected the line to continue past him and his good-for-shit brother though, considering their respective reputations. Shows you what I know about predicting the future,” he said, cocking his head a little. The tiny smile that played on his lips gave me the impression he knew something I didn't. 

“Well then. Let's go.” He moved past me towards the elevator door, and I followed him inside. As we neared the threshold, I questioned him. 

“Wait – you seem to know a bit about my family. But I don't know anything about you. You're a lot stronger than most third-class, and you're the only other Saiyan on this ship I've seen besides my father and I. Explain that.” We entered the elevator and the doors shut, the contraption coming to life. 

“Oh. I haven't been home in years,” he said, rubbing a hand on the back of his head, an eerily familiar motion. “I was last there when Vegeta junior was still... well, junior. His old man hadn't even kicked the bucket yet.”

I was baffled, because not only had I never heard anyone refer to my father or grandfather so casually, but even Saiyans on extended missions came home after several years at the most. This man was implying he'd been gone for the better part of a lifetime at this point.

“That's... a long time to be away,” I commented. “Why haven't you...?”

“Accidentally got myself too much attention, heh. I've been stationed directly under Frieza ever since I thought playing the hero was the smart thing to do.” He seemed to be reciting the last part more to himself than to me. 

“What do you mean?”

He shook his head. “Nevermind. It's a long story. Maybe next time, eh?”

The elevator was nearing the end of its scheduled ride. 

“I never got your name,” I said to him in the seconds before our arrival. 

He looked at me, his dark eyes unreadable. “Tora,” he revealed after a moment, his gaze then snapping back forward once the door opened. 

The open entryway loomed before us and we stepped out. 

Frieza was where I'd left him and my father was back. Presumably, he'd seen at least some of my battle, as he was standing near the screens. 

“That was more entertainment than I've seen in a while. Well fought,” said Frieza, his eyes going over both Tora and I and ignoring the former's minor injury altogether.

“I expect it would've been a little more entertaining had I not just returned from Albresh yesterday,” replied Tora with the barest hint of acid in his tone. 

“Yes, of course. And since you will be heading for Megalia in less than two days, you'd best go finish preparations.” Frieza waved him off.

“I'll see you around, kid,” Tora said to me before turning to leave. I doubted I'd actually see him again (at least, anytime in the foreseeable future), but I gave him a nod before he exited.

Frieza's heavy gaze followed him out. 

I turned to look at my father then, but I was surprised at what I found. He didn't look happy at all, or even complacent. In fact, he seemed to be wrestling with some internal thought he found perturbing. Sure, he enjoyed participating in battles more than watching them. But still... that wasn't the source. Had I done something wrong? Was he really so displeased that I'd lost?

I walked over to stand beside him, within proper speaking distance of he and the commander. 

“You did not use your full potential during the battle,” interrupted Frieza. I looked back at him once more.

“Oh, come now. I know very well when someone is hiding something from me. You have much greater power than that, don't you boy? You could have won, and yet you chose to lose. I find that interesting,” he continued.

“I...” I didn't know what to say. “I don't know what you mean.” Was he referring to my hesitation, or did he know about...?

“I suppose it doesn't matter. I have your whole future to see your true strength demonstrated. For now, I believe I've gotten all I need from Vegeta. Ah – but there is one last thing I need to mention before your departure.”

I was happy to hear the word 'departure' – it meant we were allowed to go home, and soon by the sounds of it. 

“Frieza,” said my father abruptly, “I think this should be discussed.” I could sense his sudden tension from where he stood near to me. It seemed he'd already anticipated what Frieza was going to say, and it made him apprehensive.

“What's there to discuss? Once I outlay the new terms of conscription for you to consider, both you and your son have my permission to return to your home world,” said Frieza.

I was about to let myself feel relieved, happy that we could leave when I heard my father speak in a strange tone.

“Both?” came his voice. I turned to look at him, confused. 

“Yes. Both,” confirmed Frieza. “I see this surprises you, Vegeta.”

“What are you playing at, Freiza? You said...” Father trailed off, his eyes flicking to me briefly before resettling on the alien. 

My stomach felt like it was beginning to twist in my gut. Why wouldn't we both be able to go home? Was my father concerned that he would have to stay? 

“What I said was that I required you to bring him. It was you who assumed now was the time I intended to keep him here,” said Frieza.

“What are you talking about?” I heard someone say, before suddenly realizing it had been me who'd blurted it out. 

Frieza turned to regard me before chuckling. “Oh, what's this? You brought him here without telling him a thing? My my, Vegeta... That seems low, even for you.”

I looked between the two of them, hoping somebody would have the courtesy to explain what the hell was going on. Things were very suddenly starting to feel strange.

“Why summon us all the way here, then? After all this time...?” said Father, answering Frieza with another question. 

“Perhaps for the reason you just stated – it's been years since I've spoken with you face to face,” Frieza answered.

“Then why make me bring the boy? Did you just intend to toy with me?”

“I wanted to see for myself what had become of him. While he appears to be the warrior you claimed him as, I don't yet need another instrument of his calibre. Though I would enjoy testing his resolve, my curiosity can wait until I have need of him. I suggest you enjoy my offer of his freedom while it lasts.”

“Freedom?” I questioned; my mouth felt dry. “Father, what is this?”

“This naivety is beginning to wear on my patience,” said Frieza. “Vegeta, if you're so concerned for the boy's welfare, tell him what you should've made clear years ago. It appears the mental gymnastics are a bit much for his innocuous conscience.”

Father clenched his fists, still looking at Frieza but speaking to me. 

“Trunks,” he started, pausing as if ascertaining how best to deliver his statement. “I brought you here under the assumption you would be Frieza's permanent vassal. This has been an agreement between he and I for a long time. However, it appears he has chosen to delay fulfilling it for longer still. That's all.”

I could hear only the sound of my own heartbeat for what seemed a like a long time, but was probably a mere second or two. 

“That's... all?” I echoed in a quiet voice. There was a million words for me to say, a million emotions to feel along with them, but instead I found myself lacking words or feelings at all. My father's words hovered in the forefront of my mind, unable to be thoroughly processed to the heart.

“Yes,” Father confirmed, as if it was an ordinary occurrence. “I will explain in detail later. Not here. For now, gather anything you may have left in your room and return it to our ship. Wait there for me.” 

I felt simultaneously as light as a feather and as heavy as lead as I forced myself into motion. I heard Father continue speaking to Frieza after I left, but I subconsciously tuned it out.

 

\---

 

Father had never been a man to lie. It wasn't that he couldn't, but his tendency to be blunt and his personal pride kept it from being a common occurrence. 

At least, that's what I'd always thought. 

I had went back to my temporary room, retrieving the package and anything else I'd left behind and walked across the station to the docking bay, locating our spacecraft with ease. Nobody had bothered me, so I had plenty of time to think.

I'd been going over what Father and Frieza had said, trying to find a way to erase the sinking feeling that I'd been set up. 

The ship was shadowy inside, excluding a few dim lights that activated automatically when sensing movement. I was sitting in near darkness in the control room, since the window shield was still deployed.

All things considered, the circumstances surrounding our journey had been strange since the beginning. First, it had been kept a secret (or at least had been intended that way). Second, Father had chosen transportation that would take longer, instead of the practical and faster option. And three – though this one didn't fit with the rest – my father hadn't acted like these would be the last moments spent before his son never came back.

Or had he? His behaviour hadn't been all that unusual, or at least there hadn't been anything too obvious. He'd let me show him some foreign alphabet letters – that was it. He hadn't actively avoided me during our twelve day conveyance, but he hadn't tried to seek me out either. Although, did those other, quieter, moments count? There were certainly times when we'd sat in near silence, literally staring into space. He'd said something mere minutes ago about 'discussing' things with Frieza, although that could be neither here nor there. 

Perhaps the reason he'd chosen to travel slower had been to stall for time?

I realized I'd been biting my nails and I pulled my hand away. I'd tried and been mostly successful to quit the nervous habit, but it always came back when I was under too much stress. 

I sensed my father finally drawing closer to our ship. I stood, leaving the room as I planned to accost him afterwards, once we were off this fucking station that he'd been intending to leave me on alone. 

I'd gone to my room, and Father had went directly to the control room to fire up the craft. I heard it hum to life, and after a few minutes there was a change in the air temperature. The station had been cold, so I was thankful for even the minimal increase in warmth. 

I felt like I was cowering. I told myself I was waiting for us to leave, but in reality I was trying to muster up the courage to face my father – even though he was the one in the wrong. 

I took a deep breath. _What would Goten do?_

Goten's first instinct, should he ever find himself in such a situation, would probably be to avoid talking about it, if at all possible. He wasn't cowardly, he was just too much like his dad when it came to interpersonal problems. So it looked like that method was out. 

And I was too much like my father to back down. 

I stood up and took my sword off, scabbard and all, and left it on the bed. I'd already taken off my armour earlier, and though it always comforted me to have my blade nearby, there was no realistic reason I should still have it on. My gloves were off and my hair was untied – I probably looked pretty domestic, as far as Saiyans went. I was too wound up to keep up a front of any kind. 

I was going to approach him, as his son, and ask him why he'd done all this just to stab me in the back.

Knowing he was still in the control room, that's where I headed. 

The hallways seemed much longer than they had before. 

I stopped just outside the open doorway, hearing the subdued hum of the ship's computer and nothing else. I took another two steps and rounded the corner. 

He stood at the panel, still adjusting what he needed to. The window remained shut, but we were moving, so I assumed we were still within reach of the traction beam and not yet out of the station's gravitational space. 

Just like that, we were there and now we were leaving. 

“Father,” I said.

He looked back at me over his shoulder, acknowledging my presence but staying as silent as before. 

Though I normally kept my features arranged on a softer side, I could summon a Vegeta-level glare if the situation called for it. It was a useful last resort when more diplomatic solutions didn't work, when I needed to summon my father's rage. Unfortunately, since the man himself was my target, more than that would be needed to get what I wanted. And since my father was Vegeta, after all, I'd been taught that getting what I wanted was my right – especially so in this case. 

I deserved to hear the full truth from him. 

“Tell me,” I said. “Tell me what you did and why.”

“It's as I told you. I had promised Frieza that upon the time of his choosing, I would give him the soldier that he wanted from our people – you. Years ago, it was my responsibility as the royal heir of the Saiyans. But things changed. I mutinied, disappeared from his radar for a long time. When I returned, I had been made king. When word got out of your existence, you can imagine what happened. He saw yet again a way to tighten his grip on our race by repeating history. Frieza has simply chosen to wait a little longer now. There is no other way to explain it to you,” Father responded.

It sank into me that this had all been some form of a cruel joke. Not just letting me leave home for once – but all of it. Probably my whole life and everything I had ever tried to build between us, ever. 

I had been standing frozen in place for a little while, but I turned around as if making to leave. My throat hurt and my limbs felt heavy, so I wound up only with my back to him and a hand on the door frame as I leaned on it somewhat. 

“Did you bring me along with you only because you thought this would happen?” I asked just loud enough for him to hear. 

“It wasn't certain that he would take you now, but yes, I was betting on the strong possibility.”

I realized that the metallic whining I'd heard while he'd answered was from the now crumpled door frame I was gripping. I couldn't see his expression, but I'd hoped to hear something – hesitation, pain... gods, _anything_ – in his tone of reply that meant the truth was difficult for him too. All I got was his usual blunt timbre. He might as well have been discussing the weather for all the fuck I knew.

I didn't want to turn around and face him. I didn't know what I would do. I didn't know what to do. 

“Why didn't you tell me?” I requested of him. _Why wait until it would be the most painful way to have me figure it out?_

“You know why.”

“Maybe... but maybe I would have...” I trailed off and gave up trying to justify any of it to myself and simply waited for him to say something, if he would even deign to do so now. 

To what little credit he had left, Father didn't move to leave. He didn't speak either, just stood in silence. I could feel his gaze boring into my back, but after a while I began to wonder if he was really still there; it was so quiet. 

“Trunks,” he said after what seemed like ages. I let my hand slide down to my side, watching it curl into a fist. 

“Do I really mean so little to you?” I all but whispered. “Do you really care nothing for your own flesh and blood?”

“It has nothing to do with that. You were an infant when this was agreed.”

I whirled around, striding up to him in fury. 

“And how does that make things _better,_ huh?” I retorted. “Even if you didn't care about me then -”

_Even if you never cared about me –_

“ - how can you justify using a child as a bartering chip?”

While eye contact with Saiyans was often neutral, it could also be used to challenge. I'd gotten used to determining the micro-expressions of someone's gaze long ago, so I knew that Father wasn't trying to assert himself over me, but neither was he going to begin apologizing. I didn't know what angle he thought he was taking. 

“It's what Frieza demands of every great race he conquers! It was not a request!” he said.

“And you just decided to roll over and take it? _You?_ You never once thought of trying to fight back? It's not just you and I that can go Super Saiyan, Father! Surely, the five of us would be enough -”

“No! If I was capable of killing Frieza I would've done it long ago! There was no choice! It's what my father did to me – it's just the way things were!”

““But why? _Why?_ Even if _your_ father was a piece of shit, how does that give you the right to repeat his mistakes?”

“It would have saved your life! Frieza has threatened to destroy the planet twice in my lifetime. If he'd done as originally planned, all of us would be dead but you would be spared – if Frieza decided to destroy us, it was the only guarantee for your life that existed! Those weeks ago when he contacted me – if I had refused, it would've been an act of war!”

I ground my teeth and refused to answer. 

“But none of that matters now,” he continued. 

“It doesn't matter? _It doesn't matter?_ Did you think I'd just... take this news in stride? Why the actual fuck would you hide something like this from me?!” I grabbed Father's shoulders, my grip forceful. In response, he took a punishing hold on my wrists, making me wince but not let go of him. It was in these kinds of moments that I remembered I was bigger than him, but not stronger. 

“Calm down, Trunks. Don't act like you understand what I've done.”

“Oh, I understand just fine. You're such a goddamn hypocrite, going on about how we should die rather than give in and yet here you are, doing whatever Frieza wants when you've never even tried to fight back.”

“Watch yourself, boy. You know absolutely nothing about me.” That little, dark seed of the person he'd once been sometimes lingered in his eyes. I could see it simmering below the surface now, triggered by his thoughts of bygone shadows. 

“That's because you never tell me! You keep yourself all bottled up like I care about who you were before! Maybe I really don't understand, maybe I'm just ignorant, but you're the only father figure I have, and growing up – all I wanted was to be like you and for you to be proud of one thing I did and... and that wasn't enough for you?” 

I'd gone from anger to something much more pitiful – sadness. Anger I could hide behind. But sorrow was too close to home, it made every wound start to bleed again and before I knew it I had blurted out things I'd never wanted to admit in words. It had gone from my pain of his betrayal to all the pain he'd ever caused me.

“If you knew this would happen from the start, why wouldn't you make it clear that I was just a tool? Why would you string me along? Just to make me miserable?” I asked. “Maybe I would've recognized I was a worthless person to you and stopped inconveniencing your life. Maybe when Mom told you she was pregnant with me you should've just -”

“Enough! How dare you?” he said, finally giving in and shoving me across the room. I stumbled and my back hit the wall, but I was still standing. It was nowhere near the level of violent retaliation I'd expected – that I'd wanted. Our Saiyan lineage was goading us both to fight, but it seemed my father's self-control was greater than I'd thought. He wasn't yet willing to draw blood or break bones. 

“Perhaps you do not see me as the father I should be, but then do not presume that I am responsible for your level of self-worth,” he said after approaching me once again. “You are a warrior in your own right, _and_ you are my son. But I cannot remake the choices I made in the past, and no matter what you think of me, understand that the things I have done were not for my sake alone.”

None of it was what I wanted to hear, regardless of if it was really what he thought. Of course, it was my father I was speaking to, and I knew I was expecting too much if I wanted a straightforward apology. His honour meant more to him than his life, but I guess he saw it the other way around when it came to _my_ pride and well-being. 

For a long, bitter moment, I did nothing. There was probably some part of me, deep down, that was capable of trying to be understanding. But I didn't want it. I didn't want to even begin considering it, not when the wound was so fresh. He'd said it wasn't just for his sake – but if that was true, why hadn't he told me the truth from the start? It was either because it would be easier not to, or perhaps how I regarded him really did mean something to him, I didn't know. Either way, I could see I wouldn't be getting anywhere by trying to make him understand how fucking betrayed I felt.

“And Mom?” I finally asked. “Did you lie to her, too?”

“Your mother has known for a long time what your fate was intended to be. But she would never have let you go. She cares about you more than the consequences of her decision, that any time you would be taken off the planet could be the last. Why do you think I told you not to say anything to her?”

“But that's just it... I did tell her!”

“ _What?_ ”

“Well – first I told Goten, and then Kakarot, he – he can fucking read minds or something, and he was adamant that I tell Mom everything, so I did... She cried – she was crying and I didn't know why... And then she gave me some stupid package and told me not to -” I halted mid-sentence.

“Where are you going?” he demanded as I began walking off, but I ignored him for now. He followed me partway, then stopped before the hallway when I went into my room and came back out. I had mom's parcel in my hand.

“I know this has something to do with this. I _know_ it does. And you're going to explain it to me, since you've been doing a lot of that lately.” I was absolutely done with keeping secrets and having secrets kept from me.

Father frowned at the innocuous object I held in my hands. I could see no hint of recognition in his expression. 

“She told me to leave it alone until after I'd talked with Frieza,” I said, turning the package over. “It was probably because I wasn't supposed to understand what's inside without knowing what Frieza wanted from me first. But since he changed his mind, I guess it doesn't matter.” I opened it and removed the photos I'd hastily stuffed back inside, holding them up for Father to see. 

He closed the last few steps of distance and took them, studying them while looking totally confounded. 

“What...” he muttered. 

But then, his expression then suddenly morphed into one I didn't recognize. It was no longer confused, but neither was it his default temper when something perplexed him for too long. The closest I could get was understanding it was on the spectrum of a vulnerable, negative reaction. 

“It's not your mother,” Father said, breaking the weighted silence. His dark eyes made contact with mine. His voice carried a resigned heaviness to it – and since resignation, _surrender_ , was not in my father's vocabulary, it unnerved me. 

I furrowed my expression. “What do you mean it's not her? It -”

An impossible thought suddenly sparked to life in my thoughts then. 

“There's no one else it can be,” I said, more to myself than to Father. The idea in my head was growing and growing; it was totally improbable and unbelievable and yet it dangled in the forefront of my mind, becoming hot as a live wire. 

“Give me the box,” my father commanded, and I handed it to him. He took the envelope which I'd originally gotten the photos from, removing all of them to join with the few he already had. He then walked over to the table and began spreading out all the pictures for me to see before unwrapping the other envelopes.


	11. Chapter 11

_While I was aware that my mother was pregnant for some time before she told me, I didn't know it consciously, as I was unable to comprehend what I was sensing._

_Having never been around a pregnant woman before, I assumed that the odd distortion in her energy meant she was sick. However, since she was behaving normally, I didn't ask until the anomaly started to feel almost like another person's ki – unfamiliar enough that I couldn't be sure with only my own judgement to go on._

_When I finally went to Father about it, suspecting the truth and wanting to confirm it from someone else who could sense energy, he went to retrieve Mom so they could reveal the truth._

_They said that they'd been planning on waiting to tell me for as long as possible. Not because they didn't think I should know, but because – as Mom explained it in her own words – having a baby at her age carried a higher risk of miscarriage. She'd wanted to be sure she wouldn't get hopes up, only to be dashed in case she lost the baby early on. My father had discovered her pregnancy fairly quickly, as his energy sensing was even better than mine._

_Despite my surprise at the news altogether (I never in a million years expected I'd have a sibling one day), I was happy. Even the age difference that would exist between us didn't discourage what I imagined life with a sibling would be like. I had only my relationship with Gohan and Goten to compare, and the former of the two was quite a bit older than me, yet we still shared a bond._

_The concept of having another being like me, a half-blood that didn't just share a similar life, but also my parents' heritage – the same heritage I had... it was something I could place hope in._

_That hope continued, despite the ups and downs of the dozens of weeks that followed. I kept the feeling like a promise to myself until the day tragedy crashed down and broke it._

 

\---

 

_For once in my life, I was not grateful for my Saiyan hearing._

_I could hear Mom crying even from my spot a solid distance away, as I'd been told I wasn't allowed to be around until after she'd given birth. Even though I was aware she'd already done so, I was afraid to approach too closely. The sound of her grief had me frozen in place._

_I could sense Father's ki near where I knew she was. His energy was burning bright enough to overshadow hers and everyone else's nearby. Of course, most everyone had been dismissed for now._

_Except for me. I hadn't been told anything since Mom had gone into labour. I knew that I should go to her, confirm for myself why she was upset and why I wasn't hearing the baby make any noise. I couldn't even sense it, but that was probably just because Father's presence was eclipsing it._

_But there was nothing to block out the heartbroken sobbing that was undeniably my mother's. I could count on one hand the number of times she had sounded sad to this extent._

_Deep down, I knew what was wrong. But I finally forced myself to move step by step towards my parents' location, unfreezing my body but not my state of mind._

_By the time I drew near to the door, Mom had quieted a lot. She was saying a few quiet words too muffled for me to hear._

_My father came out into the hall a moment later, having sensed my presence. I walked up to him, his form partially blocking the entryway, but didn't try to go past him yet._

_He may have said something to me, but I didn't catch it. I felt him put his hand on my shoulder, in a soft way that was uncharacteristic of him, but I looked past him into the room at Mom._

_She was sitting in a small bed, with her forehead resting on her palm. When she saw me she wiped her face a little, then beckoned me into the room._

_I approached her bedside close enough so she could draw me into a hug. She had her face buried into my shoulder and she rubbed in soothing motions on my back. My father stood somewhere behind me; neither of their expressions were in my field of vision – which was what I preferred at the moment._

_I couldn't handle seeing my parents' faces when they looked like that. I'd never had to deal with death so intimately, or cope with how it affected other people, so I didn't know what to do but let my mother hold me. She was normally my rock of support, but right then she felt frail, soft as sand running out through your fingers._

_The baby had been a dream to me, an idea, which still hurt once you lost the possibility of it. I couldn't imagine how it felt when the real, tangible thing she'd been carrying for so long was not in her arms where it was supposed to be. The only child she had to hold was me._

 

\---

 

“The infant wasn't born dead as we told you.”

Along with all the paraphernalia spread out for me to look at, my father's words were all I needed to get to the right conclusion myself. 

There were a few dozen photos of the little girl, Mom's carbon copy, along with what seemed to be various drawings or creations of hers from the second envelope. The third only contained a letter – presumably from Mom, which would function to explain things had my father not been there. 

If Mom had chosen to do things the Saiyan way, perhaps the baby would have lived. That's what I had once thought.

Most Saiyan females didn't want to have their jobs interrupted, so instead of carrying the baby to full term themselves, they often transferred the foetus to a incubation pod for safekeeping and nourishment. The same option applied to a newborn infant; caring for it in its earliest year yourself was discouraged (many third-class children were shipped off anyway and didn't build much of a relationship with their parents). Royalty and an exempt number of elites raised the baby personally, and that was all. 

I'd been raised from an organic birth, one of many reasons being there was some discrepancy about my partial human blood, that it may interfere with the compatibility of our standard medical care. I supposed all the same reasoning had applied to my sibling. 

But that didn't matter now, because it seemed it – _she_ – hadn't died at all. 

My eyes moved from the photographs to scan the drawings. They mostly consisted of random doodles and valiant attempts at stick-people. Judging by the hair colour on a couple of them, she knew who I was. It made me feel lightheaded. 

I was past the point of being angry, sad, or even surprised. All this within the span of a few hours had reduced me to something past a rational response. The level and elaboration of my father's – my parents' – lying was unbelievable. And for what?

_The Princess of Saiyans._ I almost wanted to laugh. I'd been so, so stupid.

My chest felt clenched with a very distinct sort of wrenching feeling, like my heart was full of broken glass. 'Butterflies' felt like way too soft a term to describe how my stomach felt – more like when you accidentally fell backwards off a rooftop and forgot how to fly. 

“I cannot believe this,” I mumbled. I walked away from the table towards the wall, leaning my arm and forehead on it. It was a poor attempt at giving myself the perception of being closed off. I needed... I needed a space to breathe. I felt sick. 

Father was standing near me, but didn't dare attempt anything more than that. 

It all made sense. Mom knew I might not come back, so of course she'd tell me I have a sibling, of course she'd try to keep the baby a secret, because she wouldn't be able to bear losing another child to Frieza... Of course she'd tell me to say goodbye.

Of course Father wouldn't tell her I was leaving. She would have never let me go, would have fought it every step of the way. Except that she didn't – she knew she really had no choice or power, when it came down to it. 

Mom had taken the only route possible to ensure her other child's safety: pretend it didn't exist. Which was one acceptable way, I guess, except that somewhere along the line it had been decided that I couldn't be trusted with that information. Maybe because I was already sentenced, and Father was worried that Frieza might somehow get the information out of me (although Mom seemed to disagree on that point, giving me the parcel before I was due to see him). I didn't have the mental energy to work it out – but apparently, my father had used whatever small shred of parental instinct he had to protect his daughter alone and given up on me. 

“We didn't know when Frieza would come for you,” Father started again, noting that I'd gone quiet. “A few years of waiting is nothing to him – though we originally assumed you would still be a child when he called on you. When your sister was born... that same axe was held above us. If no one knew of her existence, she could live in safety – but Earth had to be kept a secret haven for such a plan to work. Even Kakarot's ability doesn't change this... Should you, or especially myself, continue disappearing to visit her, it would have jeopardized everything. I've only seen as much of her as you have, a sacrifice made to avoid Frieza having yet another advantage over us. But his plan has changed. I don't know what he means to do now – it no longer matters what I would have done...”

“Bullshit,” I said. He didn't respond. 

“This is bullshit!” I yelled. I shifted my position slightly and punched my fist into the wall.

Things made on Planet Vegeta were always sturdy enough to compensate for the raw strength of its inhabitants. However, to someone of my level the ship was as good as a pressurized tin can, and I wasn't sure I cared if it imploded on itself after I punctured a few holes in it.

The first hit has caused a decent dent, the second that followed nearly tore through the wall, and since my power was unconsciously rising by the third the whole spacecraft shuddered. The fourth and final hit made the alarm go off and I dimly heard my father's command to stop. I managed to obey before he had to physically restrained me. 

He'd taken ahold of my arm, and I shrugged him off. I brushed past him with an ease that surprised me and headed straight for my quarters, winding away down the hall. I needed the solitude more than anything now. 

I made sure the door was shut behind me before I moved to sit on the floor, my back propped up against the corner of the room. It was like all the energy was suddenly sucked out of me, replaced with pure exhaustion and a deep-set ache behind my ribs. 

The alarm was now silent, returning the ship to its near complete stillness. I was thankful for the quiet; it helped my mind ease into a sense of order once again – or as close as I could get to that. 

I sat there for a long time before the effects of the day's emotional turbulence caught up to me, when I found tears threatening to spill from my eyes. 

 

\---

 

I spent the trip home avoiding or ignoring Father completely. Any brief questions between us were answered with a simple 'yes' or 'no' or a noncommittal grunt. My sleeping patterns weren't timed specifically to be the opposite of his, but that was what usually happened. I spent a lot of the homeward trek simply being in my room. 

What I did do in the meantime was peruse the things from the parcel more thoroughly, including the letter – which was written by Mom and offered a more sentimental version of what Father had told me. 

I learned that they had intended on telling me about my sister, when the time was right (whatever that meant). She'd been born healthy, but Mom's tears had been real – giving your own daughter away, even for her own safety, wasn't a simple thing. The child hadn't spent all of her time living on Earth, though that's where she was now. Tarble had taken care of her, as well as my grandparents for some part,though the letter didn't indicate what planet my uncle lived on. It was safe to assume the world was well out of the PTO's range. 

My sister's name was Bulla. An Earth name, like mine, and specific to Mom's family tree. Unlike me, Bulla had been told all along who I was, and had apparently seen pictures of me before. The letter seemed to indicate that Mom had visited her at some point, but Father had never seen her (save the day she was born). However, because of Bulla's young age, she was impressionable as far as people and information went, and what she retained wasn't wholly predictable – especially since she'd never seen in person the family she was told about.

With everything that had been brought to light lately, I didn't know what to make of it all. There was no doubt that my life couldn't go back to how it was, not with Frieza hanging over my head and the knowledge of my sister always in the corner of my mind. I doubt my father knew what was going to happen now either – what Frieza would do, what I would do. 

After twelve days passed again in a numb blur, I could tell that we were finally beginning a landing sequence as the gravity adjusted slightly. I also became aware of the familiar energies from people I knew, flickering into my awareness as our ship drew close enough to touch down.

I stayed in my room, collecting my things together until I was sure Father was well ahead of me. When I knew he was near the exit platform, I left my quarters behind for good and moved to follow the same path out. 

I could hear the platform lower and feel warm air breeze into the ship through the opening, which came into sight as I passed through the final doorway. Not bothering to wait for the ship to transport me off, I simply jumped down through the hole and landed a few feet down, the familiar docking port greeting my eyes. 

It was dotted with fewer ships than last time, but more people coming and going. It seemed to be the middle of the day, and I was happy to be back in the heat instead of the coolness of space. 

Though it took my eyes a moment to adjust, I could see ahead of me my father, who had walked halfway to the port's main building and stopped. I didn't have a moment to wonder why when my mother's voice could be heard pointedly across the former silence. (Thankfully, no bystanders were quite close enough to have to listen to any angry statements of hers that might've been forthcoming.)

“ _Vegeta!_ ” she shouted. She sounded absolutely livid – I stepped up closer, just to make sure she could see for herself that I'd made it home. Not that Father didn't deserve to feel the brunt of her wrath, but I didn't want Mom to have a total mental breakdown from thinking Frieza had decided to keep me at the station. 

I drew close enough that I could see Mom over Father's shoulder, and she could see me. Upon meeting my eyes, her expression switched from a mixture of grief and rage to anguish and relief. 

“You... You brought him home...” she said. As I stepped forwards to Father's side, leaving more space than politeness dictated, Mom didn't continue yelling at him – much to my astonishment – for the heartache he'd caused, but instead moved to embrace me tightly and briefly. Upon releasing me, she turned back to Father once more, tone calmer than I expected. 

“Do you have any idea...! Lying to my face – putting me through emotional hell – what exactly were you trying to accomplish, Vegeta? Why didn't you tell me the truth?” she demanded.

“... You wouldn't have -” he began.

“Of course I wouldn't have!” she interrupted him forcefully. “If anything happened to either of you, I couldn't live with myself. You're both home in once piece – that's what matters most – but what you did was completely out of line. I don't know if you thought you were protecting us, or something else, but at the very least your son needs to know -”

“Bulma. He _does_ know. All of it.”

Mom's eyes flicked to me, then back to my father before settling on me again. 

“Well, then...” she sighed. There was a moment of pause. 

“Trunks, I – I think it might do the three of us some good to sit down and talk,” she said.

“No, I don't think so,” I countered. Mom gave me a look of incomprehension. I could see Father from my peripheral vision, his expression unreadable though he watched me carefully. 

“In fact,” I continued quietly, “what we're going to do is not talk about it at all, pretend none of this exists like you've been doing all along. That's what seems to work best, right?”

Mom inhaled sharply. “Listen, it's not like that -”

“By the way, if you want another project to work on, the ship needs some internal repairs. Mostly dents that could've been avoided altogether,” I said to her before changing my posture to signal I was finished with the conversation. I moved to walk past her to leave.

She brushed my arm with her hand. “Trunks -”

“Don't.” I continued right on walking until I reached the doors.

I released the breath I didn't know I'd been holding once I was inside. Nothing about the palace was extravagant, thanks to both Saiyan nature and my father's, but the practicality for me meant home. Everything seemed just as I'd left it – well, except for the people closest to me. 

No passerby paid me more than a courteous mind as I made my way through the building. Even considering the time of day, I was exhausted.

I rounded the corner. 

Suddenly and unceremoniously, I found myself face-first to the floor, with a rather heavy weight pinning me down and my arm pulled behind my back. My scabbard was digging in between my shoulder blades as a result. 

“Ouch,” I said flatly. 

“Wow. You really are off your game,” came Goten's voice. His ki sparked back into existence, as he'd kept it suppressed in order to tackle me with success. 

“Noted. Now if you don't mind, let me up so I can breathe.” He obliged and released me, giving me a hand up to standing position again. 

“A simple 'hello' would've worked too, you know,” I said to him, rolling my shoulder he'd strained with his antics. It didn't really hurt, but I wanted to emphasize my point. 

He gave me a quick hug before answering. “Oh, come on. How often do I have the edge over you? Plus, you had the total resting bitch face going on when you walked in. If your father rubs off on you like that, I can see why you're selective in spending time with him.”

I tried unsuccessfully to hide the slight wince on my face when he mentioned Father. Goten must've noticed it though, because his expression became more sombre. 

“But seriously, how are you doing? How was the trip? Did anything... happen? You look pretty tired,” he said.

I didn't yet want to burden him with more of my family's problems unless I had to – so instead of telling him the truth, I answered simply and curtly. 

“It went well.”

“... That's it? 'It went well?'” he enquired. 

“Yep.”

“Seriously? But what did you actually do all that time?”

“Most of it was travelling, really. We flew there, we met Frieza, we came back. Not as exciting as you think.”

“It can't have been _that_ boring. Your description is pretty vague.” I suspected Goten knew I was neglecting to give him details on purpose, so he pried for more information. 

“What did Frieza want? Did you talk to him yourself, or was it just Vegeta who did?” he pursued.

“Mostly Father did – official business and the like. I think Frieza just wanted to see Father in person after so long. I don't know. I wasn't that involved.” I paused; Goten was looking at me still like he was trying to discern any hidden emotions of mine. 

“I'm just tired from all that travelling,” I excused. “Glad to be home.”

Just then, I heard a stir of the air around me as Kakarot and Gohan materialized into existence a few feet away, thanks to the Instant Transmission technique. 

“Hey guys,” I greeted as they welcomed me back. The air became filled with the sound of their uplifted voices.

Amidst the salutations and other questions, Gohan wondered aloud why I hadn't told him I'd be leaving. “It was a surprise trip,” I told him, which wasn't entirely a lie. 

They continued to shower me with one curious enquiry after another, to which I gave them roughly the same answers I'd given Goten. He'd filled them in best he could on where I'd gone, but they wanted to know more details, of course. Kakarot twice tried to direct the conversation towards Frieza, probably wary underneath his smile, but I didn't budge. 

“What were you all doing while I was gone?” I asked, attempting to digress the attention away from myself. “Looks like Gohan spent some time in the sun.”

“Yeah – and the rest of the time I spent trying to get the sand out of my ears. Honestly, it gets in everything here,” said Gohan. 

“We also got a bit of training in,” said Kakarot, smiling. “Gohan doesn't do it so much anymore, and Goten's here instead of at home a lot of the time, so getting a chance to spar with them was nice. Usually I just pester Vegeta until he fights me, but you guys were in space, so... Say, did you meet any really strong people out there? Did you get to fight anyone interesting?”

Knowing he could read minds, I cast him a look with hints of suspicion, but he seemed not to notice at all. “Not really, Kakarot. Sorry.”

“Seriously – call me Goku,” he said lightly, then changed his topic. “Well, I'll leave you guys to catch up. I'm gonna go talk to Vegeta. I hope Bulma won't mind.”

I shrugged, and with a little wave Goku departed. 

“So... where's Piccolo?” I asked. 

“Oh... _That,_ ” Gohan said, frowning, before Goten interrupted him. 

“You missed it! Ah hah hah – so, y'know how there's that public fighting arena, and we're not allowed to participate and all... And you know how Piccolo can be, especially when it comes to dealing with Saiyans – so this one guy wouldn't leave him alone and kept trying to 'pick on the Namekian,' right – he challenged Piccolo to a match, and big green got so fed up that he agreed! They took it to the ring, and you've no idea how many people came to watch -”

“Long story short,” Gohan cut in, “Piccolo won, but it didn't stop there because other people wanted to have a go. Right now, he's skulking away so he can have some peace. He's as much an alien here as on Earth, but funny enough, he gets singled out more amongst Saiyans.”

I smiled at the story. My family and the Sons had collectively agreed that it wouldn't be fair if we participated in the public ring, even though anyone was technically allowed to take part. The taboo against it went doubly for myself and my father, who as royalty were above such things anyway (if a royal wanted a public match, there was a lot more decorum, to say the least). Apparently, a Namekian – and one who was a warrior at that – was so unusual a sight that nobody cared about why he was here, and just wanted to see what he was made of. Typical level of interest for a Saiyan, really. 

“Sounds like fun. You wanna talk more over food?” I prompted. They agreed with heart, and we moved off towards the direction of the kitchens. Before departing, I took one last note of my parents' and Ka – Goku's – presences. They were still outdoors on the landing strip. 

I spent the remainder of the day in a more subdued state than my norm, both from travel lag and the new weight on my mind present since my last real conversation with Father. When evening began to arrive, I found myself at Gine's house, with said owner of the place and her grandsons. Exhausted as I was, I wanted to be away from my parents, so I was putting off going home. My Mom would conclude without much effort that I wanted space right now, so I doubted anyone would be sent to find me – thus, I could probably stay away from my family overnight. 

Gine, kind soul that she was, said she didn't mind if I slept over as well. When us half-bloods were younger, it wasn't unusual for the three of us to nap in a sprawled out pile (and even when Gohan wasn't around, Goten and I behaved the same way). Judging by the cadence of Goku's ki, he was asleep back at the palace, so it wouldn't be uncomfortably crowded for us.

When the night became dark enough, we retired shortly after Gine did. We were sharing a room, which didn't bother us of course, and we wound down from the day in standard routine. 

I assumed both brothers could tell I had something on my mind, but they didn't try to kick-start conversation until after the lights were out. I was perched on the edge of the bed, undoing the tie on my hair – my final daily step – so it wouldn't tangle into an irreparable knot while I slept. 

“Geez, your hair's gotten really long. Are you gonna leave it like that?” Goten asked. 

“Dunno. For now,” I replied. 

“Aren't you worried it'll get in the way?”

“Hn,” I grunted. 

“I remember having long hair when I was a kid. It was never in the way, really, although I guess having it wasn't a deliberate choice... I had a lot more to worry about during that time than what I looked like,” Gohan reminisced.

“Yeah, you goody two-shoes,” Goten said sarcastically, “pretty sure half those problems you brought on yourself. You're the one who snuck onto Bulma's ship to go after Dad, as I remember him telling me.”

“I might've been reckless, but it was nothing compared to him and Bulma – and I'm not even gonna start on how questionable Vegeta's judgement was. But it's because of all that that we're where we are now, and all things considered, I'd rather not get into... Trunks, you okay?” Gohan said.

I suddenly realized how hard I was glaring at him. I'd been listening so intently once he'd said Father's name that I'd forgotten where I was looking. I tried to soften my expression. 

“I'm fine. But you're right, let's talk about something else other than my father's _bad decisions,_ ” I said.

The two of them were quiet, and thanks to my night vision I could tell they were studying me even in the dark. Goten was sprawled out on his back, Gohan was sitting up cross-legged near his brother's feet, both their gazes fixed on me. Their dark eyes had the usual barely-there sheen of a nocturnal animal; mine probably looked much the same despite the colour differences. 

“How much longer will you be staying, Gohan?” I asked into the uncomfortable silence. I saw him shift. 

“Well... since you left shortly after we got here, and one of the main reasons I came was to catch up with you and Goten, I'll probably stay a little longer than dad and Piccolo,” he replied.

“Videl doesn't mind?” I asked.

“Uh,” Gohan said. He paused, running his hand through his hair. “Videl...”

“Wait – you guys didn't break up, did you?” asked Goten incredulously, sitting up.

“No,” his brother replied quickly, “no, nothing like that. I just – well – I guess I should explain.”

I moved so I was facing both brothers, emulating how Gohan was sitting as he spoke. 

“So Videl and I, we've been together for a while, and I've been coming here less and less – not because I don't like being here, but I've been trying to put more time into pursuing my studies... And we've both been talking about getting married, starting a family soon. But she... well, we think that if it's something we want, I have to really focus on settling into my career. My mom agrees too. They want me to choose my life on Earth, instead of training and fighting like Dad. I can't do both, because... you know. But I've always been a pacifist, and you guys are more than strong enough that you don't need me.”

“So... you're giving up on all this? Other planets, fighting, aliens and all?” Goten asked. It was clear from Gohan's words what he was going to choose. 

“Aliens and all,” the older brother replied. “But it's not like I'm going to forget about everything – it just means I wouldn't be able to come here very often anymore. Having a family, it's something I've always wanted, and I want to spend the rest of my life with Videl. She deserves to be happy. And as much as I love my own parents, I don't want to repeat that life with the woman I love.”

Gohan blinked, suddenly reverting from serious to shy and blithesome. “Well – that's the whole of it. Anybody else have a heartfelt confession to add to the conversation? Eh heh heh...”

“Maybe it's a bit early for congratulations, but I'm happy for you,” I said to him, smiling. “There's nothing wrong with choosing your own life. I mean, I've never met Videl, but I know you guys will be happy.”

“Thanks,” he replied. “If you ever get the chance to come to Earth, I'll introduce you. If there's one thing to be noted about her, she'd got personality. You'd like her.”

“She is beauty, she is grace, and she will punch you in the face,” quoted Goten. Gohan glared at his brother and then rolled his eyes. 

“What? That was meant to be a compliment,” Goten defended, but only shrugged when his older sibling continued to remain unimpressed. 

The three of us talked for a little longer, drowsiness settling in slowly as we eventually all laid down. I was the most conservative sleeper, arranged neatly on my side, Gohan slightly more relaxed and Goten taking up half the bed space all himself. 

When it had gone quiet for a while, the only sound our rhythmic breathing, I rolled onto my back. 

“Goten,” I whispered. 

“Mm?” he grunted quietly without moving.

“There's something I want to say. You don't have to answer.”

“Mm.”

I closed my eyes again. “While we were gone, my father told me something. Something I can't go back from.”

“Hn... Like what?”

“... I don't own my own life.”

“ _Fmmuh..._ What does that mean?”

“It doesn't mean anything. Especially not to him.”

“Are you... half asleep right now? I don't understand...”

“You're not the only one.” I exhaled through my nose. “But I guess I'm not as alone as I thought, either. She knows even less than I do...”

“... She? Your mom...?”

“No... But it's amazing how much they look alike... Maybe that's why he let her go...”

I heard Goten move, but whatever question he whispered next was lost to me as I drifted into sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

When I awoke the next morning, Goten was still asleep, lounging out and taking up most of the bed from the sheer lack of conservative or logical positioning. Gohan was already awake, having sat up and was stretching his arms above his head. 

“Morning,” he commented to me before cracking a small grin. “Some people just look sleepy when they get up in the morning, others look like murder. Guess which one you are right now.”

He laughed at my responding expression, swinging his legs off the bed and rising to his feet. He continued stretching, working the kinks out of his lean muscles before shuffling around to find new clothes to change into. I decided to follow suit, rising up from the bed with the slow deliberation anyone only ever has when they're tired or have just awakened from sleep. 

I'd slept in yesterday's clothes, and since I didn't want to burden Gine by having her feed me breakfast, I decided that I should just fly home to change, clean up, and get food. When I announced my intentions to Gohan, I heard Goten stir. 

“Wait... I'll go with you. Just gimme a minute,” the youngest half-blood said groggily, his voice half muffled from having rolled over partially onto his stomach. As often as Goten was here, Earth days and nights were shorter than the ones on planet Vegeta, throwing off his circadian rhythm to no end. Gohan was a lighter sleeper, so I assume he had an easier time adjusting.

“I might as well go with you too. I need to go talk to Dad after breakfast,” Gohan said. I made a sound of agreement as I searched around for wherever I'd left the tie for my hair. 

Before we left I thanked Gine, as did the Son brothers. Though she tried to convince us to stay, we declined politely and were soon soaring through the skies back to the palace. 

Goten and Gohan were dressed for the day so they opted to use the front entrance, agreeing to meet me in the kitchens, while I flew up and around until I reached a balcony close enough to my room so I didn't have to walk around looking – well, like I'd just woken up, which was the truth. This way, I also avoided the chance of accidentally running into either of my parents. I still didn't want to talk to them (and they damn well deserved to stew in their guilt a little for what they'd done). 

Once I'd showered and gotten new clothes – and fetched my sword to wear in its usual place – I met Gohan and Goten for breakfast, which was ordinary as usual. If Goten remembered what I'd said to him last night, he gave no indication of it over the meal, and was chipper as usual. 

After we finished, Gohan excused himself to go find Goku and likely check up on Piccolo as well, so Goten and I were left with a rather aimless schedule. Any lessons of mine, including weapon combat, had been put on hold ever since the Sons had arrived weeks ago, and I assumed they were still deferred indefinitely for now. True, there was only about three I'd been attending, having completed any other types of education years ago, and two of them had no physical teacher – they were computer programs I accessed during the morning hours, set so that I wouldn't be disturbed during those time slots.

Eventually, we decided to wait around until Gohan came back, likely with his dad, and that way we could get our bearings regarding when Kakarot Son Goku intended to leave, among other things. And in the meantime, Goten and I could catch up... and maybe I could tell him what had really happened while I was away (if he asked about what I'd said during the night, that is, which I was sure he would sooner or later). 

We found ourselves on the palace roof – not an uncommon hangout – basking in the morning sun. It wasn't hot enough yet to be uncomfortable, and we were tanned and accustomed to the weather enough for it not to bother us until midday. Off in the distance, a few streaks of cloud hinted for a possible break from the daily scorch. Otherwise, the sky was a clean expanse of vermilion, nearly blending in with the bronze landscape at the horizon. If we were further out from the city, we would've been able to spot the very distant volcanic range, the sky was so clear. It reminded me how much I really valued being home; arid as it was, it was an improvement on the cold and dark of outer space.

“Y'know, even considering the Mars-like landscape plus the occasional tuft of grass, this would be a great vacation spot for some people, what with the near constant sunlight,” Goten commented. 

“Oh, yeah, just teeming with lush greenery, real tourist attraction. I'm sure the crowds of bloodthirsty Saiyans, completely militarized society and rationed food and water are the icing on the cake,” I said.

“Wow, killjoy. I was starting a conversation,” he pouted.

“Oh.”

“Pfft.” He took a long pause, trying to come up with something else. 

“So, your brother,” I started when it appeared Goten was at a loss. “He's finally gonna do what he's been hinting at for a while.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Good for him, tedious for everyone else though. I barely see him as it is. Wasn't like that when we were kids. I guess a lot of things are different, though.”

“Yeah.”

I sat back so I was lying down, with my eyes turned up to the sky. “That must be nice.”

“What? Being boring?”

“Ha, no. Just the option of... doing the things he really wants to do, I guess. He's pretty smart.”

“Gohan is pretty smart, but so are you. I know I'm kinda dumb, so I don't really get the appeal of his life. But even though you keep saying it, it's not like you don't have freedom to do what you want. Though I can't exactly picture you as the domestic type.”

“It's not that I want to have his life. It's just... my father, he – you know. And you're not dumb,” I said, then reconsidered. “Well, okay, you do act like an idiot _sometimes_. But you don't have to worry about trying to impress anybody, as strong as you are.”

“I think my family would disagree with you,” he muttered, as if he thought I wouldn't catch it. 

I was startled. Though there was the occasional lighthearted complaining, Goten wasn't the type to speak ill of his family. 

“What do you mean by that?” I asked.

“They don't say it, but they think it. Yeah, I'm a Super Saiyan, but it's like that somehow stopped being impressive after three people could do it, let alone five. I'm the weakest of us – you've gotten at least as strong as Gohan now over these last few years,” he explained.

“Don't be ridiculous. Does that really bug you?” I asked.

Until recently, I'd thought our abilities made our families pretty much the most powerful people in the universe. And since we were family, we all had each other's strength. But after the even with Frieza and Father, I think I understood what Goten was getting at a little more.

“No, it's not so much that – you being stronger, that is, because I know why. It's just... how come Gohan gets to be perfect at what he wants to do _and_ what he doesn't want to do?” Goten said.

For someone who didn't know him better, they'd think his pouting was because of some passing inconvenience. But I understood him as well as anyone could; even though I had my own things to work through at the moment it wouldn't do to see Goten unhappy too. The Sons were more feelers instead of thinkers, while my family was the opposite. As such, Goten was a terrible liar, and most of the time he no longer even bothered to try anymore with me. That's how I was always able to know when he was telling a heartfelt truth.

“He's not perfect. He had to put a lot of effort to be as strong as he is, and as smart as he is. Raw talent is nothing if you don't hone it,” I replied.

“I know, I know. I just feel like I'm in his shadow. He's already the best – anything I do will never be as good because he already did it before. And I know he would beat himself up if I ever told him that, because he'd think it's somehow his responsibility alone to ensure I grew up self-confident or something,” he said, blinking his dark, almond-shaped eyes. Goten, Gohan, and Goku, they all had the same soft eyes, prompting an image of an animal I'd seen in an Earth book once, a nimble quadruped with fur and antlers. All three of them were alike, and yet so different in some ways.

“The reason he worked so hard was probably because he felt so responsible for everything. It's good that he accepts responsibility where it's due, but he does go beyond that and I think it's a lot of weight for him sometimes. There are some people who refuse to be held accountable for anything,” I said, frowning, trying to keep my mind focused on the persons at hand. 

“What I'm trying to say...” I continued, “don't reduce yourself because of anyone else. Y'know what – fuck expectations. You're Son Goten, and I'm Briefs Trunks and the Prince of All Saiyans. Your family is still a good family, but your life can be whatever you want. That's what your brother is doing, and you should too. Even I will sometimes give you shit advice, so you should do whatever you want to do. Make your own choices just because you can.”

Goten smiled, and then laughed. “Yeah, you're not always right. But I spent a lot of my childhood here, away from Mom and Dad and Gohan. Your parents have been here of course, and so was Grandma, yet – if you think about it, you kinda raised me as my friend. Living a life like this is what I want to do.”

He put his hand on my neck in a brotherly fashion, bringing our foreheads together for a brief show of encouragement. He pulled away before continuing to speak.

“Maybe we're not related by blood, but to me, we're brothers. Gohan too. Doesn't matter where we go – doesn't matter that you're a prince and I'm a commoner. I've got your back as long as you've got mine. Deal?” he said.

“You even have to ask?” I replied, grinning. As if I would ever abandon my best friend. I'd really never cared of the differences in our station, which only existed inside the Saiyan culture anyway. And the old saying was true: blood is thicker than water. The bonds of friendship by choice were stronger than the bonds of family. And right now, I felt that more than ever. 

“Well, since I distinctly recall you just saying 'fuck expectations,' what do you wanna do? Exploring deep space certainly sounds like an adventure,” he joked. “We could go anywhere we want, nobody telling us what to do.”

“Ha. The alien raja and his vassal, on a journey through the cosmos with no destination,” I said, laughing.

“Is that a real thing? Saiyan royals choosing a right-hand man or woman?” 

“I dunno. My father doesn't have one, but he doesn't run things exactly like it was always done before. He doesn't wear Grandfather's amulet, and he barely ever wears the red cape either. Tell you what – whether I wind up king or not, you get first dibs on being my valet. I'll make it a real thing.”

“Whatever you say, Trunks. Glad to know I'm the first person you thought of to be your lackey.” His cheeky grin had returned.

“Heh. And if my father ever learns to cooperate with yours, that will mean the universe will have two trouble-maker duos,” I said. “Plus, when Gohan has a kid, we'll wind up with three. I pity the people who have to put up with our families.”

“Knowing mine, Gohan's kid will turn out to be his total opposite and love to fight. Who did you have in mind for my potential niece or nephew to cause mayhem with?”

“Oh... Well, do you remember how I was talking in my sleep last night?” I asked Goten. He frowned momentarily before answering. 

“Yeah... But I wasn't sure if that actually happened. I was half asleep,” he said. “So... What was that about? I didn't want to pressure you and ask when it seemed so serious.”

“It's safe to say that a lot of changes happened while I was away, but... I guess there is one good thing I learned out of it,” I said. Goten raised an eyebrow, waiting for me to elaborate. He turned his body to face me, one leg hanging off the lip of the roof, his attention fixed on me.

“See...” I began, running a hand through my hair and looking off at the horizon. I guessed I should just be blunt with the news. 

“It turns out I – I have a sister,” I blurted.

I heard a shallow gust of wind, but other than that there was total silence. 

I looked back at Goten, waiting for his response, but when I turned to meet his eyes he wasn't there. I blinked, looking over the edge of the roof to confirm what I thought had happened. 

He was hovering a few feet below, having caught himself in the air after he'd fallen off the edge in surprise. He looked stunned at where his own reaction had put him, my words probably still absorbing into his head. 

“Uh... Too blunt of a reveal?” I asked. “I'd say that went more smoothly then when I was told -”

“ _You have a sister?_ ” Goten gushed, interrupting me as he soared back up to my level and grabbed my shoulders. “What do you mean? Is your mom pregnant? Is your sister another illegitimate love child from before? Does she have both the same parents as you?”

“Easy, easy, don't tug me off the roof too,” I berated before attempting to give him an answer. He was throwing questions at me at a rate of ten thousand per second, and I was having a hard time correcting his assumptions or answering his queries. 

“That's not what I expected you to tell me at all!” he continued once he'd settled down a bit.

“Well, what _did_ you expect?”

“I don't know, but not that! So, explain! Holy shit, I knew you were hiding something, but what the actual hell?”

“That's not even the whole of it, but I guess I'll start with her. You might want to sit back down. I'll try to make it short.”

He did as obligated and sat cross-legged, holding his ankles with his arms in his lap to keep himself from fidgeting. 

As I was about to explain, two familiar presences suddenly appeared a few feet away from us, prompting me to abandon my speech. Gohan and his dad were back.

They'd appeared in mid-air and Gohan had remembered to fly, but Goku fell several feet before catching himself. 

“Whoops!” he said, smiling sheepishly and rubbing the back of his head, levitating back to Gohan's level. I didn't like to think of Goku in my father's terms, but the word that instantly came to my head to regard him by at that moment was 'clown.'

“Sorry to keep you guys waiting so long,” he said, “but it looks like you guys were having fun sunbathing anyway. If there's one thing I like about this planet, it's the hot weather, am I right?”

I smiled, but made eye contact with Goten. It was a promise that I'd tell him the truth someday soon, when the time was right again. For now, our focus was on what Goku was intending to do. 

“So, you guys talked? Did you wind up finding Piccolo?” Goten asked them. The Namekian's energy was hidden so he could give himself some privacy. He was probably out in the desert somewhere, meditating in peace. 

“He's fine, don't worry,” Gohan said, tapping his temple with a finger. “I think he's had enough of being around so many Saiyans at once, though.”

“You make it seem like you were reading his mind,” I joked. He gave me a curious look. 

“I was,” he said. “Sorry, I thought you knew already. Piccolo and I can voluntarily communicate words or emotions with our thoughts to each other. I don't use it all that often – without a lot of practice it can be difficult, because it's not the same as regular mind reading.”

“What? Really? Since when could you do this?” I asked.

“Yeah, since when?” Goku repeated after me. “I didn't know you had that ability!”

“Years ago, actually. We usually just prefer to speak in person...” Gohan replied to the two of us. 

“What, does your whole family have psychic powers?” I blurted. All Saiyans had a little latent psychic potential, but most never bothered to hone it at all. Even if they did, its scope usually didn't extend past minor telekinesis. I briefly wondered if my father had some degree of skill in it.

“Our whole family?” Goten echoed. Either he was unaware his dad could read minds, or two out of four wasn't enough people to constitute the exaggeration of 'whole.'

“Nevermind,” I dismissed, “although it'd be cool if you taught me how someday. To speak telepathically, that is.”

“Sure. Since I'm staying an extra week, we could start on that whenever,” Gohan offered. I smiled, giving him a single nod to confirm my interest. 

Goku piped up then. “So, since Piccolo and I are gonna leave tomorrow, do you guys wanna train with me for a bit? It's been a while since it was just you three and me. Vegeta's being stuffy lately.”

“Vegeta's always stuffy,” Goten said, inciting a soft chuckle from everyone but me.

“C'mon. Let's go to the arena,” said the oldest half-Saiyan.

Gohan and his dad hovered away from the roof, Goten and I taking to the air to follow suit. It wasn't a far distance to walk, so we levitated down to ground level to traverse it on foot. It was starting to get hot out, but only the beginning part of the walk would be outdoors. 

Since there was a bit of space between the palace and any nearby buildings, we were unlikely to run into other Saiyans who weren't guards. For anyone else, strolling just outside the towers and walls for seemingly no reason would be marked as unusual activity (even more so if you weren't a Saiyan – there had previously been more variance in the species, in the form of foreign workers or soldiers, but now it was rare to see any alien personnel). Most of the capitol city was indoors anyway to protect everything from the weather, and the other small cities elsewhere had the same set-up due to the harsh climate.

As we walked, Goku struck up conversation again. “So, I'm assuming Gohan's already filled you guys in?” he asked. The half-blood in question nodded.

“It's a shame you're not gonna fight anymore when you have all that potential,” Goku lamented before addressing the group as a whole. “But Chi-Chi's gonna be happy! She always knew Gohan was smart. I'm sure Videl will be excited, too. You guys have known each other for a while now.”

“We weren't actually dating until the last five years, but yeah, when you think about it I've known her longer than that,” Gohan replied.

“What made you get together?” I asked him, since it occurred to me that I knew almost nothing about the two of them – but Goten replied instead.

“Heh. Pretty sure Gohan just pulled his 'a-dork-able nerd' act. He suckers everybody with that.”

“Goten, seriously,” Gohan reprimanded. Goten just smiled, enjoying his moment of needling his brother. 

“But how did you actually meet her?” I tried again. 

“It was in high school,” he said, “but we weren't actually friends until right around the time she accidentally figured out I was half Saiyan.”

“Oh? How did that happen?” I proded.

“It's a really long story...” Gohan scratched his head, ruffling his short spikes of hair. “This was several years ago, now. To sum it up, an alien I met when I was a kid – during the time I was travelling with Dad, Bulma, and Vegeta – crash landed on my doorstep, looking for me. The entire fiasco was over in less than a month, but... uh, Videl got involved by some fluke chance. It didn't faze her as much as it would most people, so we kept hanging out even when things went back to normal. Eventually, with all the teasing about us being boyfriend and girlfriend, and we just decided to call all that time spent together 'dating' until we get married. That's the gist of it.”

“I see,” I said, before Goten piped up again.

“I can't imagine her torment, having a crush on someone so clueless,” Goten mocked. “Although, I guess you must've being doing something she liked during all that, ahem, _spending time together_.”

“Knock it off,” Gohan reprimanded, a blush creeping over his cheeks. 

“Well, you aren't denying it,” his younger brother said. 

Goten and I both laughed at Gohan's embarrassment, while Goku simply retained his usual carefree look.

We made more small talk until we arrived at our destination, after winding our way through the halls on the main floor. The arena, thankfully, was not on the opposite end of our starting point, so it didn't take us too long to reach it. 

It was empty as usual. The open roof allowed me to see that a few more clouds than before lingered overhead, larger and no longer a lengthy distance away. That didn't change the fact that it was still warm, but now it also felt somewhat humid. 

Goku was the first of us to start stretching, the rest of us following suit shortly. After a minute or so we were ready.

It wasn't often that I got to see Goku train. But every time I did, it struck me how perfect his fighting form was. Impeccably balanced and aligned, both tense and limber exactly where needed. Whenever he wasn't training, he tended towards the clumsy side – although, come to think of it, he always caught himself at the last second before he caused any damage to his body or dignity.

Though Father's technique was a little different, he had the same level of polish on his stances as well. However, he was always so wound up, where Goku's movements were fluid. It was like the difference between fire and water. 

We exercised in our base forms. Rarely was it otherwise, as the Super Saiyan form was the power cap anyway – you could hone it, but there was no other transformation beyond it. We'd never had a need for more yet, anyway; our base forms were usually strong enough. We kept our golden ability hush though, so as not to draw in challengers from across the galaxy just for the sake of a fight (it had mattered more when Goten and I were younger than it did now).

Gohan had probably trained with his dad while I was away, so I expected he would be able to keep up – which he did. Goten was the same. We worked through kata to loosen ourselves up more before we got into anything like sparring. 

Though I was used to training with my scabbard still on, Goku had prompted me to take it off. I felt oddly light without it as I went through the movements, copying Goku as his sons were doing. Many of the kata familiar to me were also meant to integrate the use of a blade, although I was able to remain articulated with the slight change of style.

I liked the straightforward feeling of training for combat. It made me feel more normal again, to have my focus sharpened on a single task. I didn't have to think about anything else but the thrum of adrenaline and kicking up dust.

 

\---

 

“You ruined my shirt,” Goten complained, making a face as he pulled at the tattered remains of said garment. 

“Sorry, buddy,” Goku apologized. Though everyone was a bit scuffed, Goku had gotten a little too enthusiastic while fighting Goten – playing with him, really, since none of them began a battle taking it seriously – and the youngest half-breed had gotten smacked with a ki blast to the chest. 

I'd fared a lot better against Goku, actually earning a compliment from him. None of the matches had been long enough to wear anybody out, though we'd all taken turns against each other to gauge our strengths and weaknesses. Goten knew my moves too well, so he'd been my most difficult of the three to take on, despite that he claimed I was stronger. Gohan had spent most of his turns blocking or avoiding blows and dishing out very few. In a real fight, it could work to wear out your opponent, except that in this case we specifically weren't trying to, so the most he'd done was irritate everyone until we demanded to switch turns.

After the sky had become wholly overcast, it had actually started to rain a little, much to my joy. Apart from personal reprieve, rainwater was key to helping sustain us and our limited supply of survival necessities, so precipitation was always a good thing. Currently, though, I was just happy for myself. It was a steady, but not heavy downpour, so I'd said to the roof open to enjoy it. It did help to cool us off, too. A Saiyan's body temperature naturally ran hot, so I didn't know of any of us who didn't like the rain. 

Goten flicked his bangs, which had just begun to stick to his forehead with water, keeping them out of his eyes. Otherwise, his mop of hair was unruly as ever, even when wet. I noticed it'd grown as well, though it didn't touch his shoulders like mine had recently gotten long enough to do.

“You have extra clothes at, um, Gine's house right?” Goku asked. 

“Yeah. But that's a whole flight back over there...” Goten lamented.

The adult Saiyan smiled, tilting his head. “Uh, Goten? Instant Transmission? I can just take you there. Gine's there right now, so you don't have to fly or borrow anything Trunks has here in the palace.” Goku himself could probably use a change of clothes as well; a few spots on his outfit looked singed too.

“Oh, well, okay. You sure you don't mind, Dad?”

“Nah,” Goku said, turning to look at Gohan and I. “As long as you guys don't care that we'll be gone for a few minutes.”

“Take your time. I need a breather anyway,” Gohan replied. Despite the weather, the air was muggy enough to warrant a break. I walked to the benches and sat down, folding my arms and agreeing with him. The seat (underneath which I'd placed my sword earlier to keep dry) was splattered with rain, but it didn't matter all that much, since I was already wet and our bodysuits were designed to dry quickly.

“Alright. Well, we'll be back in a bit,” Goku said, placing his hand on Goten's shoulder. 

In a blur of the air, they were gone, leaving just Gohan and I. 

“Man, I'll never know where Dad gets his enthusiasm for doing this all the time,” he remarked. He'd chosen to sit as well, stretching his legs out and wiping a bit of rainwater from his eyes. 

He looked at me, changing the topic. “I forgot how dry it is here. You and Goten looked like ducks in a puddle when the weather turned, it was kinda funny. Back home, most people go sulk indoors when it rains.”

“Mom sulks,” I answered, smiling faintly. “But yes, I do like the rain a lot. Can't remember what the hell a 'duck' is supposed to be, though.”

Gohan blurted out a bit of laughter. “It's a type of bird that really likes the water. I'd say they're pretty common animals where I live.”

“Ha. Makes sense why we don't have them here then.”

“Yeah. Earth has a lot of wildlife, even in comparison with other planets that aren't so barren. No offence – this place is home to you...”

“No offence taken.”

“... Have you ever considered visiting Earth again? You probably don't remember the last time at all, you were so little. Everyone there would probably really like to meet you in person -”

Gohan abruptly drifted off and stood up, his eyes locking on something past me. 

“Hey, Vegeta,” he greeted with a hint of wariness. 

I rose to my feet slowly, not yet turning to face my father, though I could see him from the corner of my eye, off to my right side. I'd been too caught up to notice his energy approach; judging by how it was now he hadn't hidden it at all.

Gohan's eyes flicked to me momentarily. He'd probably taken note of Father's posture and become leery, confirming that my responding tension definitely had to do with his entry.

“Gohan,” Father acknowledged. “Has Kakarot suddenly decided to run off?”

“He took Goten back to grandma's. They'll be returning in not too long, if -”

“I need to speak to Trunks, I'll be taking him shortly. When your father returns, tell him that if he asks where we went,” Father said.

“If you have something to say to me, Father, you can say it here,” I interrupted, turning to look at him properly. He was dressed simply, not wearing his usual armour, donned only in his usual boots, bodysuit, and of course, gloves.

“I want to speak to you _alone_ ,” he clarified. 

Was he going to... try _talking_ to me? Endeavour somehow to patch up what little he could of his mistake? If he thought it would blow over that easily, he had another thing coming.

While his frame certainly didn't fill the doorway, he was not an obstacle one could simply get past, so I resigned myself to sticking out whatever intentions Father had right now. Evidently, he'd decided to cut the crap and force me to interact. I could fly away, but leaving in the opposite direction of him felt like it'd be running. That I would not do.

“Well then, you'll have to ask Gohan to leave. I won't,” I said.

“Take it easy,” the older half-Saiyan placated. “If you guys need to work something out, I can just go. Dad and Goten and I came come back later.”

“I think that would be wise, seeing as Trunks will not concede to make this simple,” Father said.

Gohan hesitated for a few moments, looking between the two of us before elevating himself to hover into the air. 

“Sorry, Gohan,” I said, apologizing that he had to get caught in the crossfire. He gave me a brief look of concern before taking off into the rainy sky. I watched him go before acquiescing that this time, my father was going to confront _me_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote “blood is thicker than water” is a shortened version of the true saying. “The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb” is the full version, and sometimes people misinterpret the shorter variation as meaning the opposite of what it's indicated to. Just thought I'd note that here (otherwise Trunks' thoughts in one section of the chapter may not make sense to some of you).


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Two chapters at once? If I promised it would happen at the beginning, it means I have to do it sometime, right? So here you go.

I directed my words over my shoulder without yet looking at Father.

"Don't you have something better to do than be here? You're the king, I'm sure you could find something more important than your own son.”

"I won't play games with you, boy. Stop what you're doing and face me,” he said.

I turned to alter my posture and gaze so that it was towards him. He was out of the door frame and stood a few paces away now. 

"Alright. What do you want?" I demanded.

“What I just said – I want you to face me like a man. You've been cowering away ever since we left the station and I've had enough.”

“I wasn't cowering. I was avoiding you because you're an unregenerate bastard to talk to.”

“If you insult me again...”

“You'll what? Do you think breaking my bones will hurt more than what you already did?”

He pursed his lips. “And what of it? Were you expecting some soft apology?”

“Were _you_ expecting me to say I forgive you? You'll be waiting a long time. In case you don't remember what forgiveness is, you have to earn it.”

“Don't patronize me. Stop acting like a child."

"Maybe if you stopped treating me like one I'd consider it. Actually, scratch that – as I recall, you were ready to ship me off to Frieza at a moment's notice. I don't think I'm being cynical when I say I know what kind of people he makes of children.”

Father hissed air between his teeth. “I've tried talking to you your mother's soft human way to make you understand. Now I see that you are determined to reject everything I tell you, no matter how I might communicate.”

“I don't know where you're getting that idea. Mom would never treat me the way you have. Even if she knew the truth and hid it from me, it wasn't her decision. I don't know what you hope to accomplish right now, aside from getting rained on as we talk in circles.”

“Then be forthright and get on with it!”

“You want _me_ to be forthright? I'd like to know just what the hell goes on in your head, because if everything you've done somehow makes perfect sense to you, then you're either crazy or I don't know who you really are. Maybe it's both.”

“Everything I've taught you over the years has been to make you strong. And yet you continue to cast that all aside in favour of being bitter towards me.”

“Well, excuse me for thinking I have a right to be bitter after you _stabbed me in the back._ ”

“I already told you. I did what I had to.” 

“No – there were other things you could've done.” It wasn't even just about me.

He was the last true Saiyan royal, he could've picked anyone more befitting of his station. But no, he'd chosen a scientist from a backwater planet who had absolutely no physical prowess whatsoever. And even if he tried to justify getting involved with Mom as an accident, he could've left her and I on Earth forever and I would've grown up none the wiser. Gohan was the only evidence in existence to show that a half-blood had potential for strength, but that still wasn't enough to indicate whether I'd have that same power as well. So that couldn't be the main reasoning behind my father's choices.

“Back then, when I was born – you could've avoided having anything more to do with us,” I continued. “But not only did you raise me here with you, you never let me leave, and Mom stayed too... and then you had my sister! Tell me, Father, when you first revealed where we were going, you said that you didn't want my life to be like yours... so why would you make that deal with Frieza? You didn't know what would happen. I could've wound up just like you! If it weren't for Goku, and especially Mom, you would've been alone your whole life – or dead!”

“That blowhard Kakarot has been nothing but a thorn in my side. And I don't have to justify your mother and I to anyone – in that respect our business is ours alone.”

“But what about me? What about _Bulla?_ Maybe it was for her own safety, but who could rightly abandon their own daughter to live indefinitely without her parents? She's your responsibility – you knew what would follow with her existence, and yet something prompted you to make a different decision than you did with me. Not only that, I deserve not to have been left in the dark about her!”

“I ensured she would be out of danger brought from association with me. Because things happened the way they did, the same was not done for you. Nothing can change that. When I was younger, I was hardly aware of Tarble's existence for a long time. Even if he is weak, it's kept him safe. I don't care if you don't like it, but your own situation is much the same.”

“Yeah, maybe. But unlike you, I'm not going to wallow around, waiting in fear for Frieza to blow us all to smithereens! Why not take the chance to train and surpass him? You said we weren't strong enough, but us three half-bloods all achieved Super Saiyan at a much younger age than you or Goku did. And we can't be the only ones in the universe who have the potential to overcome Frieza, either!”

We'd been standing out in the rain long enough that Father's hair was hanging down, a few stray bangs normally combed into the rest of his hair stuck to his forehead. It made him look younger, almost, enough so that I could nearly picture his response as an echo of the day he'd realized the truth of the words himself.

“You still don't get it, do you? Frieza is a _monster_ , not a man. Years ago, the power we have today would've been enough to take him down. He's gotten stronger since then – far stronger. And he despises the Saiyan race with every fibre in his body! There is nothing to be done about it!” he said.

There was nobody alive that my father would admit was stronger than he was – except for Frieza. It didn't make any sense. Then again... 

While all of us had a couple scars here and there, my father's torso was marked up and down with them. Saiyans were sturdy, and a wound bad enough to cause permanent disfigurement wasn't easy in the first place. Since Father's scars weren't self-inflicted, that left them being a result of him repeatedly being subjected to harsh battle, or... torture. Both were plausibly direct results of Frieza's doings.

If that was so, then I guess I couldn't blame him wholly for how he'd been conditioned. Yet that still didn't mean Father was allowed to project that onto me. I wasn't going to let him take my presence as something for granted – he was going to have to live with the fact that maybe, just maybe, I was going to start making my own choices. 

“You listen to me. It's the strongest who survive – that's the way of this world!” Father said. The look in his eyes was vehement, absolute.

It was my turn to break that illusion of changelessness. 

“No, you listen! My whole life, I've done everything you've ever asked of me!” I declared. “But I think I'm starting to realize that we see things differently, and you can't handle that! So maybe _your_ world isn't one I _want_ to be a part of anymore! Maybe I'm going to make my own way!”

“Tch – the hell does that mean?”

“It means that if I decided to leave this planet, what could you do to stop me?”

A muscle near his left eye twitched, which either meant he was annoyed or was internally freaking out. 

“Even if you managed to physically detain me,” I went on, “how long could you keep that up? The only other people strong enough to stop me would be on my side!”

“Where would you go? Every Saiyan in the galaxy would recognize you!” he said, like that concept had any power to make me 'return to my senses.'

“Wherever I wanted to! Make no mistake – I don't care what either you or Frieza try to threaten me with, but I won't be a slave! You've already made it clear that you don't care about the possibility of never seeing your children again, so what does it matter if I go?”

“If you left to be on your own,” he growled, “you'd be forsaking your birthright. You'd no longer be a prince! You'd throw away your own pride and the pride of your people for nothing!”

It hurt that he valued that over being with me because I was his son alone. I hadn't made any set-in-stone plans to actually leave, but his words made me wonder how serious I should be considering my own declarations. If he refused to admit his family meant anything to him at all, I was going to draw the line.

“Is that how you see this, Father? You really just don't understand – but I guess it's hard to have a heart when you've stopped so many others,” I growled.

That set him off. With one sentence, he'd gone from pissed to completely livid. And to be honest, the change made a little nervous. 

“Is that what this is about now? You've finally foregone your ignorance in place of thinking you're superior? And yet the last time we spoke, you were so desperate for my attention that you claimed you cared nothing for my past! You're becoming just like Kakarot and his soft-hearted sons!” he said.

Father took a step towards me. I took a step back.

“Gohan throws away his potential, and his brother follows you around like a pet! Kakarot has taught them how to be weak! You want to be pathetic like them?!” he went on.

“Leave them out of this! All of this is your fault!”

“Shut up! I won't lose my son to the notions of that pharisaical third-class! You are not going anywhere!”

“Stop it! You don't have the right to decide my life anymore!”

“I'm your father! You will do as I say!”

“No! You can't fix things by being a fucking control freak!” He was definitely angry, angry enough that I was pretty sure he was seconds away from tearing me a new one. Under other circumstances, I wouldn't be intimidated by the prospect of fighting him, but he was mad as _hell_. Our family was indomitable, if nothing else, but him especially so. 

It looked like I was about to have physical proof of that by getting the shit kicked out of me. 

“Do you even have what it takes for a real fight, boy?” Father warned, confirming my thoughts.

His ki was already flaring up, and mine had started to as an innate response. This had happened as soon as he'd snapped, but it was extremely noticeable now. A few loose specs of debris had begun to float in our vicinity with the effects of our energy pulses. 

All of a sudden, a figure appeared in between us. 

It was Goku, his back facing to me.

It took both Father and I a moment to register what had happened. Goku must've sensed our rising ki and come to investigate, despite that in the time elapsed, Gohan had to have told him to keep his distance.

“How dare you interfere, Kakarot? Get out of the way!” Father hissed.

“Vegeta,” Goku said in a deadly calm, “hurting him isn't the answer.” It was the first time I'd ever seen or heard of Goku _not_ wanting a battle to take place. Then again, his words made me think he was aware of what was going through my father's head – literally.

“Get lost! He is _my_ son, and I will do with him as I see fit,” Father ordered.

“Yes, he's your son – and he's capable of understanding without violence, and so are you,” Goku replied.

“What are you blabbering about, Kakarot? Move!” Father strode up to Goku and attempted to push him out of the way, only to have the man grab his wrist. 

“Take... your.... hands... off me,” Father threatened lowly. 

“If you really need to take your anger out on something, fight me instead,” Goku said.

Father yanked his hand away, glaring at Goku in the eyes. 

“Unless,” the taller man continued, “it's not really about that, is it?”

“Goku,” I said, but had nothing to follow up with. He shouldn't have to be involved in this. 

At the mention of his name, he turned his face just enough so he could see me. He studied me for a moment, finding whatever he seemed to want to make up his mind, then resumed looking at Father. 

“Well? Vegeta?” Goku prompted.

Father's eyes were hard as steel. Just when I though he might actually strike Goku for his impudence, he did the opposite. Father turned his back on us, crossing his arms and making a vague sound of dismissal. 

“Get out of my sight,” he said. He had not clarified whether he was speaking to one or both of us, but I assumed the latter as Goku approached me and put his hand on my shoulder. 

Everything went blurry for a moment and suddenly, we were indoors, and a moment later I placed us not at Gine's house, but somewhere else in the palace.

I was standing face-to-face with Gohan and Goten. The two brothers stared at me apprehensively. 

“You're drenched,” Goten remarked. 

“It really started to dump rain,” Goku said, his demeanour returned to its usual state somewhat. “Even if it's not that common here, it can't be that nice to spend all day standing in it. Trunks, once you get into something dry, we can all go eat or something.”

The man shuffled us along, prompting our silent selves to action.

 

\---

 

That night, I'd returned to my own room to sleep. However, I was restless, unable to lay down without tossing and turning. I felt the pull of exhaustion, but my mind wouldn't settle.

Goku and Piccolo were leaving the next day, as the former had stated to me. That wasn't really what my thoughts were on, but even with Gohan staying a little longer, it made me wonder how normal things would revert to with them gone.

I sat on the edge of my bed, gaze resting idly on my sword. I'd forgotten that I'd left it in the arena, but when I'd returned to my room at night, it had been leaning in the corner.

Making up my mind, I stood up and retrieved it. I couldn't sleep, but I still wanted some peace and quiet. I decided to take a visit to the botanical gardens – the greenhouse.

Only a few squadrons of palace guards would be awake at this time. I'm sure there was some nightlife taking place out in the city, but here, the silence was thick. I didn't want to disturb anyone without good reason, so I made sure I moved quietly, staying under any passing soldiers' radar. 

After a silent, dark trek, I finally reached the entry that led to the room I wanted. The automatic recognition system let me in without fanfare, both the inner and outer doors opening without a fuss. The first one closed behind me before the second one gave way, a precaution towards maintaining the artificially adjusted environment for the plant life to thrive in.

Because it had rained earlier in the day, the temperature of the air in the gardens didn't feel like all that dramatic a comparison. What was dramatic was the visual change. The protective dome overhead was currently transparent, allowing a little light to come through from outside, and the sky to be seen above the tops of the largest vegetation.

The area of the gardens I was in wasn't where food was grown – the plants here were decorative or had mild medicinal properties (not that we needed them). Before me, the lush greenery seemed like a veritable jungle, nestling the darkness between its leaves and making the pathway through feeling narrower than it was. Despite this, it felt pleasant and refreshing. A few of the plants were bioluminescent, more so as I walked further in.

I kept walking until I found the first, miniature space cleared for relaxing. A few raised slabs of stone were present to sit on, and like parts of the pathway were made from a rock natural to the planet. The rest of the garden's floor was spongy dirt, but layered over top with a soft, mossy down. The plants that gave off their own light were numerous here, intentionally placed so that any visitors could have ambiance at night.

I took a seat on one of the benches, laying my sword down beside me and taking a moment to study the sky. Neither of the twin moons were visible, though a few thin patches of cloud let some of their light through. 

Gazing up through one of these brief holes to glimpse the stars, I found myself unable to remember which one was Earth's. Which star had a little blue and green planet in its orbit, with my sister on it.

I hadn't kept the pictures of her. They'd been upsetting at the time, so I assumed my father had taken them. I had the letter, now stashed somewhere in my room, but it was all the physical proof I had that pertained to my sister. When Mom had been pregnant, I remembered constantly pressing my ear to her stomach, trying to detect my sister's heartbeat. It had been a little while until I'd been able to differentiate it from Mom's, but eventually, my effort had paid off. It'd given me the same feeling as when I saw Goten after a long absence, or the very rare times that Father smiled at me.

Reaching a hand into my pocket, I withdrew the other two objects I'd brought along – a special whetstone of sorts to sharpen my sword with and the small container of oil for it. I needed something to concentrate on that was simple. Not only was I tired, but if I kept thinking about my life's problems, I'd be miserable too.

After removing the scabbard and applying a thin film of oil to the stone, I positioned the blade at a slight angle to it and slowly drew the edge across in a practiced manner. It made a very subdued, metallic ring, but not enough to be obnoxious to my sensitive hearing.

I did that back and forth for several minutes on both sides, thinking about nothing at all, until I paused to study the blade. I was only retouching it and didn't want it to be too sharp, else it would be more likely to chip. Even though it was a special metal, it was best to keep good habits for when I had to use a normal sword as a replacement.

Inspecting it tickled a distant memory of mine.

Father had been the one to give me the longsword, somewhat a gift and somewhat an apology. After that time training with him as a kid and running away to hide in the desert, he'd shortly afterwards bequeathed the weapon to me. He'd accidentally broken my arm during said training session, so despite the fact that it was still healing when he offered me the sword, I'd been ecstatic. 

_“It was the prized ancestral blade of their race. I defeated their greatest warrior and claimed it as my own. It's yours, now,” Father explained._

_My eyes were wide, taking in the sight of the scabbard with the hilt and crossguard protruding from the top. I'd never seen anything like it – weapons like this were rare for my people. Even at my young age, I could tell it was no ordinary blade just by looking. It was borderline magical to me at the time._

_“R – really?” I stuttered. It seemed a monumental thing to offer to someone freely. This was the sort of thing parents usually told their children not to touch, stored in some lofty place to only be gazed at._

_Father was kneeling down to my height and holding the sheath, with the handle extended for me to take. With my good arm, I grasped the pommel and pulled the steel out slowly, adjusting myself to the unfamiliar weight._

_It was far too large for a child my size, longer than I was tall, but my Saiyan blood meant I could lift it with one hand (the other being coated in a hardened healing gel, restricting most of the movement). Even so, the blade was heavier than I expected, as if the metal was dense like some neutron star._

_I was awestruck, and completely smitten with the sword instantly._

_“You can probably see this is no ordinary weapon,” Father said. “It will not bend nor break, except under the most extreme pressures. It holds its edge for a long time, and is deadly sharp – it cuts through almost anything, so I expect you to be careful when handling it. It is not a toy. In addition, you must learn how to care for it. For now, you'll practice with something suited to your size, until you're experienced enough to wield this one efficiently.”_

_I finally found words through my excitement. “But you don't fight with a sword, Father. How am I gonna learn it?”_

_“I'll find you a teacher who can show you how.”_

_“Really?” I said again. If I hadn't had a busted arm on one side and a sword on the other, I'd have probably been flying around with joy. “You mean it, Father?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Thank you! This is so cool!” I said, grinning from ear to ear. I couldn't wait until Goten came to visit so I could show him. Gohan, too._

_Suddenly, I remembered something that dampened my spirits slightly. “I don't think Mom will like it,” I said, lowering the tip of the blade to the ground. It seemed to get heavier the longer I held it, unused to the weight as I was._

_He smiled a little. “She will, once she sees you master it.”_

_I brightened up again. “Of course! I'll practice every day! I'll get really good at it, I promise!”_

I let the memory go, watching the faint luminescence of the surrounding plant life reflect off the blade. 

I was considering whether to stay longer and meditate until I felt completely tired, or just to go straight back to my room, when a nearby noise piqued my attention.

I didn't startle, but I sat up straighter and attempted to pierce my gaze through the foliage to see what had caused the disturbance. As far as I knew, there weren't a whole lot of people besides myself raring to take isolated walks through the palace gardens in the middle of the night. 

Another brief rustle, and then a large figure appeared into my field of vision.

“Piccolo,” I said. So this was where he'd been.

The towering Namekian blinked his eyes at me. “So it is you. You're making noise,” he said, his gruff voice cutting through the air. I frowned at his statement, until I remembered that he could hear about ten times better than I could and my blade-sharpening had probably disturbed him.

“I didn't mean to bother you. Were you meditating?” I was half whispering, thinking my own voice too loud. Piccolo seemed to think that I'd already broken the peace of the place, and had made no effort to hush his voice. 

“Hn,” he replied. 

I replaced my blade into its scabbard and the stone into my pocket. 

“Aren't you supposed to be asleep?” he asked me. 

“Can't. I was planning on staying here until I felt like I could. I won't make any more noise.”

“Fine,” he grunted. “I can keep you company, but don't expect me to talk.”

“Alright.”

At that, Piccolo hovered a few feet up into the air, crossing his legs beneath him and closing his eyes. His energy, which I had sensed for a short time after he'd revealed himself, simmered back down to a nearly undetectable level. 

A moment later I copied his pose, but stayed seated on the bench. I believed him when he said he wouldn't initiate conversation – I wasn't going to, either.

Soon enough, my own steady breathing was the only thing I could hear, lulling me into a meditative state. I extended my consciousness, slowly becoming aware of all the life energy around me, past the shallow sparks of the plant life and into the city surrounding the palace. It was a good exercise, seeing how far I could sense, but soon enough I lost my concentration and resigned myself to being aware only of my own ki, wilfully diminished to nothing but a candle flame.

 

\---

 

I was lying on something soft, but firm underneath. Like somebody had laid a thin, fuzzy blanket over the bare ground. And the blanket smelled like moss and soil. 

I opened my eyes, revealing that it was, in fact, exactly what it smelled like: moss. Apparently, I'd passed out at some point during the night, and sleepwalked away from the bench and laid down on the ground... _underneath some type of colourful bush_ , I thought as I rolled over. The chromatic leaves were all I could see, though I knew it was at least dawn by the fact that I could see them without trouble.

My muscles were a bit stiff from being prone on the ground for so many hours, but it wasn't like there was room to sit up. The vibrant plant was literally in my face. I assumed it would yield if I moved, but I had a small worrisome thought over whether it was poisonous. Colourful usually meant poisonous, whether people or inanimate vegetation. 

I sighed, my breath rustling the foliage. I'd crawled under it and been just fine, so it was probably completely safe. Plus, I needed to get a look around to determine what time it was. Nobody was looking for me, so it couldn't be that late in the day. I'd been up later than usual last night, so I didn't have any way to predict the hour of my awakening. I wondered if Piccolo was still there. 

I propped myself up on my arms. The plant remained draped over me, but the vines parted enough that I could see through them. I hadn't wandered far, as the clearing I'd been sitting in last night was right there. My sword was plainly visible on the bench, but Piccolo was nowhere to be seen.

The vegetation was almost like some sort of woven carpet, or so it seemed as I lifted it off of myself so I could stand up. I would almost be wondering if last night had been a dream, if I had woken up somewhere else than underneath this... unusual plant.

I stood up and stretched, working out the kinks, then moving to get my sword and leave the gardens. The ceiling above was now clouded, enough to allow some sunlight through but not enough to let the heat scorch the place. There were still some clouds visible, but not as much as there had been yesterday.

Walking back through, I tried in vain to sense Piccolo's energy. Either he'd left, or was hiding himself once again from prying eyes. When I tried to detect everyone else's energy, I realized they were all still asleep. 

It must've been the literal crack of dawn. _Really_ early, in other words. I doubted the kitchens would be open yet – seems my sleeping cycle really had been screwed. 

I opted to go back to my room to change and clean up for the day before doing anything else. 

Just in case it rained again, I chose a navy bodysuit with full coverage. It was less absorbent than the standard, and while actually designed for Saiyans working on planets with more violent weather, I had access to all different designs if I wanted. I didn't bother with armour, but I did take gloves. I left my hair loose as well.

Waking up at the hour I did meant my stomach was less than pleased. I didn't feel like eating yet because of it, so until the faint nausea passed or someone else woke up, I had nothing to do. After pondering that for a few minutes, idly pacing and going nowhere, a thought popped into my head. 

It wasn't a pressing question, but it was something I could look into that might offer some clarity. 

That's how I found myself in the archives at the type of ungodly hour that meant the sunshine still wasn't warm yet.

The palace archives were a tower, much like most buildings with the few exceptions. I didn't have to go all the way to the public collection for what I needed, not when it was easier to get information here anyway. There were different levels, assorted by information type and classification, and the inner walls were the medium of access themselves. It was interconnected hallways made up of large, shifting blue module screens on each level, activated by voice or touching the screen, although private rooms were available as well as hard copies of the information.

The archives were never all that busy, but they were utterly dead when I walked in. Exactly one person was in the building with me, and he approached me as soon as he saw me. He looked startled.

“Do you need assistance, your highness?” the man asked, flustered. His reaction may have been a combination of the time of day, and having never seen me before (at least, close up).

“I want to access the military deployment records,” I said. “I don't know what level that is.”

“Level four, highness. This way, if you please.” He gestured me to follow him to one of the small elevators, which when inside you could still see the level in front of you. 

It took us less than thirty seconds to reach level four, which looked the exact same except for the number marker on the elevator indicating otherwise. Once we stepped off the lift, he led me to a private room where I could get what I was looking for. It also looked the same as the rest of the place, except the blue wall moved to seal you in for privacy. 

Before I entered, the man asked me if I needed anything else. I declined, and he let me know he would be around should I require help later on. 

As the door shut behind me and I habitually scanned the room, I saw words forming on the screen directly in front of me. 

_Clearance: level four. Identity confirmed – Trunks, Prince of All Saiyans. State your command or touch the screen to begin,_ it read.

I wasn't one hundred percent sure what other information was on level four, so I repeated what I'd told the attendant earlier. 

“Show me the military deployment records from the last Standard Half-Cycle,” I requested aloud. 

What I wanted to find was information on the Saiyan I'd med on Frieza's ship – Tora. If Frieza hated us so much, I wanted to know why Tora had had the ranking he did, as well as why he was the only Saiyan on board. I hoped getting a little insight might offer some clarification about the PTO commander himself, too, if not the situation as a whole. 

When the computer asked me to specify the class margin, I said elite. Tora was obviously a high-level soldier. He'd fought well, and even though I'd cut him he'd walked around afterwards like it was no big deal (although that was a thing for most of our kind). And to be so high up in Frieza's employ also indicated his likelihood of having a high Saiyan rank. Though his facial features threw me off a little, it wasn't enough to toss away my presumptions altogether. 

I inputted his name and the results came up. 

There were only three elites on record with the name Tora, but upon scanning the profiles, none of them were a match. There was an infant and his deceased father, plus a female on some distant outpost. That meant the Tora I was looking for wasn't an elite.   
It was possible then, that since he'd been off-planet so long, he simply hadn't been updated in the system to adjust for his increase in power. Although, it was rare that third-class exceeded the limits of their caste – but it did happen, Goku and his sons being the one and only example I knew personally.

When I changed the class margin, about fifty results came up. 

Saiyans didn't have cameras, per se, but we did utilize foreign technology for recognition imprinting, creating an image of the person all the same. Unfortunately, even with my level of clearance, I had to go through each and every profile, as the only thing displayed immediately on the database were the Saiyans' names, numbers, and ranks. I had to select the profiles individually to see any image of their faces. 

It got more and more annoying as I went down the chart, coming up with nothing every time. None of these people were the man I was looking for. 

Three results from the bottom, I finally found one that was interesting. Not because of the information on it, but rather, the lack of it. 

The profile had 'Tora's' name and rank listed, but his number was missing as well as his image. His squadron ID was there, but I didn't know if that would help me. It wasn't that the data was too confidential for even the prince – it wasn't even blocked by a firewall. The information simply didn't exist anymore, like it'd been deleted from records. Not only that, but it clearly read that the man had died before I was born.

I ran a hand through my hair in thought. Without anything else to go on, I decided to look at his squadron. If any of them were alive, I could track them down and ask, if I really felt invested in this.

Four names were listed, and I almost passed over them if one in particular hadn't stood out like a red flag:

_Shugesh_   
_Borgos_   
_Bardock_   
_Fasha_

Bardock. 

That name... _Isn't that Goku's father's name?_

My heart felt like it was in my throat as I clicked the profile. Bardock was supposed to have died a long time ago. He was a third-class. Nobody, really, aside from the fact that he'd fathered one of the most powerful Saiyans in history. 

I didn't know what Bardock looked like, aside from it being mentioned that he resembled Goku. Just like Tora had, almost exactly. But then again, so did that other palace guard, Turles, and there was no relation there.

There was no reason for 'Tora' to be Bardock under a false name.

The biography didn't even have his rank listed. Just his name and date of death.

Perhaps it was a different Bardock? But then why was the information deleted? The time of death seemed to correspond, as did the suspiciously absent data, but the man Bardock was supposed to be didn't fit in with the picture.

My stomach did an ungraceful flip-flop. _Even if it is him, by some wild fluke, why would he have anything to do with Frieza? Why is he still alive, yet listed here as dead? What's so secret about him?_ Sure, he'd been strong, but that was not nearly a good enough reason. 

I pulled my hand away from my mouth, aware that I'd been biting my nails again. It wouldn't do me any good to reveal the Tora-Bardock correlation until I was sure. Blurting out to Goten's grandmother that her partner was still alive would be unwise, especially if my hunch turned out to be wrong.

The image of Tora's face floated through my head. How coincidental could you get before chance became fate?

Almost as if to interrupt my thoughts from going any further, my stomach growled quite loudly. I sighed, scratching my head. 

Just when I though I'd figured one thing out, another came to take its place. For now, maybe it was best to lay low about this. I hadn't expected I'd find information so sensitive, or pertaining to someone I knew. 

Maybe I could come up with something over breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got caught up Googling information on swords while merely looking up the proper procedure to sharpen one. The process is condensed a little for the chapter, but I thought it was kind of cool to include.
> 
> There's also a quote attributed to K. M. Howell in there - one of Trunks' lines. I couldn't find any other information about it except the author's name.


	14. Chapter 14

“Are you sure you don't wanna come home yet?”

Goku's question was aimed at Gohan, though his eyes flickered between both his sons. 

It was the mid-afternoon, and the rain had picked up again, though it had been reduced to a mere mist of droplets instead of yesterday's torrent. Goku had with him his satchel of personal items he'd brought at his arrival, signalling his official intentions to return home within the hour. 

“I'm sure, Dad,” Gohan replied. “Besides – we agreed on only a week, right? It's not that much longer.”

Currently together, it was just the four of us (Goku, his sons and I). Once again, Piccolo was avoiding sentient contact, although his ki was no longer suppressed from detection, and I could sense my parents together somewhere else in the palace. Distantly, I could feel Gine's ki as well. 

“Alright then. You know that means I get whatever your mom is cooking for dinner tonight all to myself,” Goku said. “Oh. Speaking of your mom, do you want me to tell her why you're staying longer? She's gonna ask.”

“Actually, I'd rather tell her myself when I get back. I don't want her bugging Videl any extra while I'm gone, when I haven't even told her anything certain yet either. Just give mom the excuse that I'm studying the schematics of some alien technology or something,” Gohan said.

“Okay. But just so you know, I'm working on a new technique and I won't be around the house all that much until it's time to come get you. If you need something, it might be hard to reach me.”

“Don't worry. If any small inconvenience comes by, I'm sure I can manage it for only seven days.”

“You got it,” Goku replied before turning to his youngest. “And you're sure you don't wanna come home now either?”

“Nah. Besides, if I left now all of a sudden, Gohan and Trunks would have nothing to do without me. I'll see you around though, okay Dad?” Goten answered in a voice that sounded much like his father's.

Goku smiled, like he'd been expecting that sort of answer, and he reached over to hug Goten and then ruffle his hair. “I guess it's goodbye for now, then. Keep outta trouble for me, kiddo.”

After releasing Goten, Goku turned and gave Gohan a solid grip on the shoulder. “You too, Gohan. Watch over your brother for me.”

Goku then turned to me. “Trunks,” he said, then smiled. “Take care.”

I nodded, and we all bid our goodbyes as Goku stepped back. “I guess I should go get Piccolo,” he muttered, putting his fingers to his forehead, “and say goodbye to the others, too...”

He gave us one last wave before vanishing, a faint and brief vacancy left in the rain where he'd been standing. 

 

\---

 

“Learning to master this type of technique requires a much different approach than you may be used to. While I know you're both comfortably familiar with sensing and manipulating ki, if you've never had experience dealing with your latent psychic potential, telepathic communication can be a challenge.”

The three of us had moved indoors. We sat cross-legged in a circle, and Gohan had begun explaining to his brother and I a few basics of telepathy. Goten had at first shown interest in participating alongside me, but so far, he already looked bored just from listening to his sibling talk.

“It isn't about using force. Pushing harder won't make it function more smoothly – it's a fine balance between concentration and equanimity, and once you get the hang of it it'll be as simple as breathing. But depending on your natural talent or previous exposure, it may be a while before you can even hear my inner voice, much less respond to it.”

“Does your inner voice always use such unnecessary big words too?” his younger brother commented, intent to antagonize obvious.

“Oh. Sorry Goten, didn't mean to overwhelm you. I forgot you can barely read,” Gohan riposted calmly. 

“Excuse me?” Goten blurted. He lifted up the middle finger on one hand to defend his minutely bruised ego. “Can you even see how many fingers I'm holding up, you blind -”

“Goten,” I enunciated with a sigh. I didn't really understand the basis of his ridiculous retort, but I didn't want the two to keep squabbling. 

“Were you two like this the whole time I was gone?” I asked.

“No. Goten just enjoys showing off when you're around,” the older sibling said, then turning to direct his attention to the younger. “Goten, if you've changed your mind, feel free to tune me out. But I think Trunks and I would appreciate it if you didn't interrupt again, alright?”

“Alright, alright,” Goten pouted, shuffling his seating position.

“Now then, where was I?” Gohan resumed. “Anyway, the main concept is to keep your mind clear from anything you don't want to send across the mental link. If you aren't careful, the message may become jumbled with background noise, such as indiscernible images or feelings. Like when using a telephone – the goal is to keep the channel clear of static.”

“Telephone?” I asked, unfamiliar with the word even though I understood what he was getting at. 

“Oh... Sorry, I keep forgetting that you don't always remember our words for things. A telephone is a communication device remarkably similar to what you use here, only with a slightly different design.”

“Wait, you don't know what a regular phone is?” Goten asked.

“I guess not,” I replied, “although it's possible I might've seen one before and just forgotten about it.” 

Excluding food items, I often drew a blank when it came to material possessions from Earth, as the things I came into contact with from there were mostly what was edible. I never considered it to be important that I forgot about things I wasn't likely to see again.

“That's so weird. My parents may be hillbillies, but even I have an old cell I use back home,” Goten said.

A punctuated cough disrupted our conversation from progressing any further. 

“Sorry, Gohan,” both Goten and I said at once. 

Our would-be teacher drew in a long breath of air, then exhaled it. “Honestly, you two.”

“I promise we won't interrupt again,” I said on behalf of myself and my best friend.

As committed, Goten and I remained attentive the rest of the time, following Gohan's instructions. On the first try, neither of us were able to hear him, but once he began focusing on us individually, I found that I could begin to make out his unspoken voice a little (albeit the brokenness of the message, due to my unfamiliarity). However, Goten was unable to hear anything and he eventually gave up, letting his body fall backwards so he was lying down on the floor, defeated. 

“Ugh, I need a break. This seemed way easier when you first described it. How come Trunks can already do it?” he complained.

“Well, I can't really do it all that well,” I said.

“Even though you're here a lot, Goten, Trunks grew up here permanently. There seems to be more Saiyans who've dabbled in this sort of thing than humans, so Trunks has probably been exposed to it at some point – maybe as a young child. I was fairly young when Piccolo taught it to me, and since I've seen Vegeta move objects with his mind, it's likely -”

“He can do that?” I asked. I felt slightly guilty about cutting Gohan off (again), but my curiosity had gotten the better of me.

“Yes. He seemed quite adept at it, although he doesn't utilize it very often at all. I think he mentioned something about Frieza being a skilled telepath as well, so maybe that's who taught him...” Instead of having someone interrupt him this time, Gohan trailed off on his own. 

Even though neither he nor Goten had been present during mine and Father's spat yesterday, they weren't stupid. I'm sure anyone who knew me could add A and B together and come up with C – that was, a visit to Frieza, plus my father, equated 'sensitive topic.'

The Sons were practically family to me, but it seemed like there were boundaries they still wouldn't try to cross. 

“Trunks,” Gohan began again out of nowhere, catching my attention. “If you want... one week from now, you could come back with Dad and I.”

I looked at him in surprise. 

“Earth really is a beautiful place,” he continued. “Out of the select planets that can sustain life to that degree, it's still quite something in comparison with any other world. It has wastelands, like here, but most of the planet is covered in forests, and mountains – and the ocean! I mean, I'm more inclined to brag about the climate where I grew up, but I can bet you've never seen anything like the sea.”

“I...” I tried, then failed to carry on. I wasn't sure why this had been brought up again, considering we'd been on another topic entirely beforehand.

Certainly, I believed his description of Earth. I had a few books with pictures of it, and whenever Goten – or his father or brother – visited from there, for the first day they always carried the scent of cool earth and the crisp aroma of foreign trees. It stood out because of how numbed I was to the scent of hot sand. I recognized what Gohan was trying to say, but I was unsure about the opportunity itself or the angle being presented on it.

“Goten would come back with you, no doubt. And your mom would probably want to, and... and maybe Vegeta might come around? I mean, it would be nice if – if your whole family could be together.”

My eyes flickered to Goten. He had a strange expression on his face. I still hadn't told him any more details about my sister, including her location (though Earth was a logical conclusion anyone could make) – but all things considered, his brother's words might take on a little bit of a different meaning to Goten. _Unless... Unless Gohan already knew..._

I abruptly stood up. “I'll think about it,” I said noncommittally. “For now, I need a break too. Turns out just sitting there and thinking for too long can wear even me out.”

“Man, you must be glad we were homeschooled,” Goten piped up again, having returned to his usual self quickly, probably in an effort to steer away from the previous subject. “As far as education goes, Earth is definitely not all it's cracked up to be. If you're wondering why Gohan acts like an old librarian lady trapped in a twenty-something guy's body, it's because he had to sit through – ow, let go of my ear!”

“I think I've heard enough out of you,” Gohan said, tugging his brother's earlobe.

“Ow, ow, ow! Trunks, make him let go or something!”

I put my hands up in mock defeat. “Sorry Goten, I think you asked for it this time.”

“Argh, screw you both!” he huffed.

 

\---

 

Night had come, and just like many other people, I was preparing myself to wind down for the day. I hadn't exactly woken up that morning well-rested, so there was no real reason for me to want to stay up for any extra time. However, I hadn't yet changed into my sleepwear, as I was planning on taking a visit to the library in search of more reading material. 

I'd finished the novel I'd brought along on my and my father's trip, albeit slowly, and I needed something new. Among my many choices, I did enjoy reading about Earth, and even though I didn't always understand the references in my text of choice, it gave me the sense of expanding my knowledge of the planet. I often researched other planets and species as well, but Earth was a place I had a connection with. 

The brief period before I retired was usually the only time I spent reading – thus, it often influenced my dreams. And due to my preference for Earth literature, it never came as a surprise when I dreamed that I was actually on that planet. Though I doubted the representation was accurate; when paired with my real, vague memories it gave Earth an ethereal quality in my mind. _It's probably nothing like I imagine it to be._

My reverie was disrupted by the presence of a familiar energy heading my way. 

Long before the knock even came, I was debating whether to answer or stay silent and pretend I was somewhere else. 

It was Mom. 

She knocked on the door three times. “I know you're in there,” she said before maintaining a brief pause in case I should answer. 

“I'm coming in, okay?” she continued a moment later, before strolling in, facing me as the door shut behind her. 

The only way I could ignore her was to go stand in the corner, and since I wasn't going to do something so ridiculous I simply crossed my arms and stared at her.

Mom was dressed in regular Saiyan clothing, as she sometimes was; a plain black bodysuit, one with a looser fit and no covering for her arms or shoulders. She'd always been lean, but the only other woman I'd seen with the same lack of battle-hardened muscle was Gine. Despite that, the look of determination on Mom's face was enough to intimidate any Saiyan woman who might think her an easy target. 

“Listen up,” she began, “we are going to have a respectful, mother-son conversation, because you're tired of fighting with your father and I'm tired of fighting with you both. You can't keep giving me the silent treatment, so don't think you'll get to stand there looking cross and refusing to cooperate. We're a family, and we're going to work on this.”

I pursed my lips, but otherwise made no movement or sound. 

“Please, Trunks. You're my only boy and I love you to pieces, but you have to talk to me so I can understand. I know you're angry at us, but if you can't even talk about this without controlling your temper, things aren't going to get better between you and your father, only worse.”

“I tried talking to him. It didn't go that well,” I muttered.

“You know,” she said cautiously, “he's trying his best.”

“ _Tch_. If that's what you call his best, I'd hate to see what you think his worst is.”

“Look, he's just pissed off right now -”

“He's always pissed off. Actually, enraged would be a better word to describe his mood the last time I saw him. Or maybe it was just me trying to explain my side of things, and he didn't want to listen.”

Mom sighed. “I think you're being a little too hard on him.”

“ _I'm_ being too hard on _him_? Are you serious? How can you even say that?”

“Yes, he made mistakes – yes, he's not always perfect in the ways he makes up for them – but he's not heartless. Just hear me out, okay?”

“... Okay,” I said. 

“Right. So, I know you guys had an argument yesterday. I know he wanted to talk to you, start sorting things out, but obviously that didn't work, because my short-lived conversation with him after that didn't go well either. But if anything, what I got out of yesterday only made me more sure of what I already know, and what you should know too. He does care, son – he just doesn't show it the same way most people do.”

“No kidding,” I said, acerbic. 

“Trunks... He grew up without any good people in his life, and it wasn't like he suddenly started being a good person when he met me. He's changed so much since then, but things like that take time. But do you know what? You're here today because of something we once treated as a mistake. And I'm not saying that everything that happened was for the greater good, but the past is the past. What matters is that I gave him a second chance. I'm asking you to do the same.”

I stayed quiet. She moved closer and put her hand on my arm. “He's not... the most emotionally open person. You know that. His pride is what keeps him going, if nothing else. But it's not just arrogance, and it extends beyond the battlefield – it extends to you, too. You are his only son. And as harsh as he is at times, it would absolutely kill him if anything happened to you.”

Mom was the best of anyone when it came to understanding Father's subtle emotions, so there wouldn't be any reason for her not to be telling the truth. Even though she'd lied to me before, I'd already forgiven her for it in favour of placing all the responsibility on my father. It was easy that way. Take the person I most wanted approval from and blame my every frustration on him, so I could avoid the convoluted vulnerability I felt by demeaning the worth of our once trusted bond. 

“Not all the mistakes he made were simple,” I said at length. “How did you learn to trust him afterwards? How much do you trust him?”

“I trust him with my life. Of course, it wasn't always like that. But even when I first got to know him, I saw something in him that was more than the villain he showed on the outside. I also saw that he was... lonely. Cut off from his race, and hated by everyone else. He had nothing, and nothing to lose. Now that he has his people and his family, he has everything to lose.”

I looked at Mom's bright blue eyes, noting the honest emotion in them. It was in her nature to create, to try and fix what was broken, and she was determined not to let the fragile bond between Father and I die. She'd taken it upon herself to be the mediator, foregoing her own need to redeem herself to me so that I could reconcile with Father first – she knew the relationship with more strain should be priority. Realizing this, I felt guilty for having her shoulder the extra weight. 

I knew she was right. For better or for worse, things had to change.

I sighed. “Mom... I j -”

The ground suddenly shook like the area had been caught in the wake of a massive explosion. 

Everything quaked so roughly that Mom fell over, and when I tried to catch her I fell over too, even I unable to maintain my balance. She gave a small scream – not in fear, but in shock at the random seismic disturbance. 

Abruptly, the room went completely dark, and I moved to shield her from any potential falling objects. Even though nothing in my room was all that hazardous, I obeyed my instinct just to be on the safe side. 

After what seemed like minutes later, but was probably only seconds, the shaking stopped.

“The fuck just happened?” I blurted, sitting up. My eyes had adjusted to the extremely limited light, and I helped Mom rise to a standing position. I was reminded by her tight grip on my arm that her human vision meant she was blind in the sudden darkness.

“Why isn't the power coming back on?” she asked, a slight tremor in her voice. 

I didn't have an answer. In the random event of something overloading or knocking out the main power grid, there were backups that were supposed to restore things to normal until the damage was repaired. The fact that this wasn't happening was troubling.

“Let's go,” I said, slinging my sword over my shoulder, then taking Mom's wrist so I could lead her out into the hall. I stopped when I reached the barrier of my doorway, which was now sealed shut until the power returned. 

Deciding not to wait around for that, I gave the door a solid hit and then peeled it away so we could step through. Mom flinched at the unexpected noise, but otherwise stayed calm as we then made our way down the corridor. 

Father was somewhere on the lowest floor, by my guess, and the slight raise in his ki signal meant he was on guard, but nothing more than that. I didn't know whether to head straight for him, or find the nearest person just to try figuring out what the shit was going on. Something didn't feel right.

I picked Mom up when we reached the stairs, levitating down them for a little more speed. I could sense people around on the second floor, probably a few palace guards. I didn't have a scouter with me, but they would – meaning they might have more information. The scouters had their own grid, so there was no way to render them useless all at once unless a high-voltage EMP was released (powering yourself up to a ridiculous level could also produce a similar effect). However, the communication lines could be jammed up, though I hoped my gut feeling was wrong about that.

Setting Mom back down, we'd only gone a little ways further before rounding a corner and were face-to-face with someone, who had actually been heading in our direction.

I had a brief, startled moment where I thought it was Goku, until realizing it was Turles. 

“Your highness – and Lady Bulma,” he said. “I'm glad I've found you.”

“What's going on?” I demanded of him. 

“There seems to have been an explosion that hit our main power hub,” he explained, referring to the palace's individual generators, “though the city is still on, and the backup networks for the med bay and the evacuation dock still appear to be online. As of right now, we have no idea what caused the detonation.” 

In the event of something serious, medical facilities and escape platforms were given a separate power supply, to be safe. It gave me a little comfort to know those areas were still online, but it definitely didn't outweigh the rest of my concern.

“Where exactly is my father? Is there anyone letting him know what's going on?” I said.

“We have someone on it. I don't have any confirmation yet, however.” Turles seemed to be distracted by whatever information he was receiving over his scouter, its small lights blinking in the near total darkness. The device seemed to be working fine for now, thankfully, so at least it didn't seem like someone was deliberately trying to cause confusion. It was probably some fluke accident that had caused the power outage. 

“What about -” I started, but didn't finish as the ground resumed shaking, softer for the first few seconds and then violently once again, like two more separate explosions had gone off, one closer than the other. 

I braced myself against the wall and Mom hung onto me for dear life, not wanting to be floundering around in the dark when nobody knew what was happening. _This really isn't good._

Eventually, the ground became still again, though Mom didn't let go. 

_I'll bet that was the other backups we just lost._ “Turles,” I said, demanding the man's attention as he recovered his balance, “I need you to watch over my mother. I'm going to get to the bottom of this myself.”

“Trunks – it isn't safe,” Mom said. 

“I know. That's why you should stay here in case anything happens. If this is the beginning of an attack, Father and I are likely the biggest targets.”

“And you and he are both the most capable of protecting me. I forbid you to leave,” she commanded. 

I shook my head, although I knew she could only hear my voice. “I'm sorry, Mom. It's safest for you to stay away until we know what's happening. I'm going to go get Father – we'll come get you afterwards. I'm sorry.” I grabbed her wrists in a gentle but firm grip, peeling her hands off me. 

“Turles, keep her safe,” I said as he stepped over to hold her. She was fighting just enough that he had to grip one of her arms, to which she angrily ordered him to let go. Though she was officially the king's consort, any soldier was obligated to follow my orders over hers (because I, now considered an adult, outranked her), so Turles didn't budge despite her protests. 

“If things become dangerous, get her out of here,” I dictated. 

Turles nodded his affirmation once before I turned to go, running off in my father's direction. I knew it was a better bet to go to him first than to the power matrix alone. 

“Trunks! Be careful!” I heard Mom shout as I left her behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter wound up shorter than it originally was, and got posted later than I originally intended, because my laptop crashed shortly before it was complete and corrupted the file irreparably. All I could restore it to was the brief chapter summary I wrote two months ago for it, so I had to redo it all. I have learned my lesson about updating my backup files more frequently.


	15. Chapter 15

Though I couldn't always pinpoint a person's exact position by sensing their energy, it was only a detriment when searching blind in an area that all looked the same. Since blind I was not, and the palace was diverse, it wasn't hard to begin tracking my father's location. He'd probably still been working at the time of the blackout's beginning stage. 

However, as I descended onto the lowest level of the palace, there was further indication that things were amiss (and of course this had to happen the very same day Goku, an invaluable fighter, had left). In a potentially compromising situation, there ought to have been more people around. I could sense a few here and there, but even then it wasn't a typical amount for the night shift of guards. Many of them seemed spread out on this floor, instead of in groups. On top of that, some of the higher level servants and staff also sometimes stayed at the palace. All the energies I sensed were at the level of a typical guard, so where was everyone else?

I jogged along the corridors, winding my way as my father drew closer and closer. 

All of a sudden, his energy level rose, enough to cause me to stop mid-run. There was one other person close by him, but they didn't appear to be the cause of his change; their power didn't seem nearly enough to intimidate Father.

I regained my senses and ran faster, towards the throne room where I was sure he was. Even if scouters couldn't identify people by their ki, there were only a few beings on this planet with a power level anywhere near his – therefore, unless the stranger was there to help, the guards were staying away on purpose. My route was taking me near an area where servants ought to be, and although I sensed no one I chose to make a small detour. 

However, as I rounded a corner, I was forced to stop once more as I nearly tripped over something laying in my path. 

I leaped over it at the last second, only to land next to the object as a soft and strange _plosh_ sound came from beneath one of my boots, like I'd stepped in shallow water. 

However, the scent that reached my nose definitely wasn't water. Looking down at the object – _objects_ , they littered the hallway – I didn't have to be able to make out the colour of the liquid to know that the iron tang to the air meant blood, and the still shapes on the floor meant bodies. 

It was another disturbing few seconds before I realized there weren't as many as I'd thought, and that a couple of them were... _Gods, they're in pieces._

I put one hand over my mouth and nose, partially to contain my shock and partially to block out the scent that had become overpowering. I leaned against the wall to stabilize myself, only to jerk away when I realized there was blood there, too. 

I was glad that, even though I could see, the darkness made the sight before me imperfect. The person I'd stepped over was somewhat whole, though there seemed to be something coming out of his midsection... One of the other two was quite clearly in half, and the final cadaver didn't even have a head – 

I looked away and stepped back, hurriedly backing up even more when my heel landed in something a little more solid than blood but still gave way under my weight. 

When had this happened? Had their power levels been so low already that I hadn't sensed them dying? These people weren't just dead – they were fucking _butchered._

I let myself look down again for a quick second, confirming that the three corpses hadn't even been soldiers. 

Unable to stay there another minute without being sure I would vomit, I went back the way I'd came. I'd take another direction to get to Father. Any tension between us was literally at the bottom of my priorities right now. 

He would know what to do right now. 

I had barely made any ground before a shape at the end of the wide hall I'd entered intercepted my path. My current rattled state was the only thing that prevented me from barrelling into them to get by.

The darkness didn't hide the size of the towering figure, nor the hint of memory that flashed behind my eyes when my gaze reached his face – a face utterly devoid of emotion whatsoever. 

It was someone nameless whom I'd only met in an odd, passing moment: the man in the desert with the long hair, strange clothes and empty eyes. 

“You...” I grit out. “Did you kill those people?” I noted the faint spots of dark liquid on the man's forearms. 

“Why?” I growled when he refused to answer, simply staring at me. I clenched my fists. 

It wasn't even like he was analyzing me or on guard for my attack. It was like he couldn't hear me. I readied my stance, even though the man remained unaffected and neutral. 

There was a split second and then he collided into me with the force of an asteroid, sending me careening through the nearby wall, and the next.

I stopped when I hit the third barricade, my momentum having slowed down enough so that I didn't break through, but created a sizable dent. It took me a second to feel any pain, so fast had it happened. 

The dull hurt shooting through my body, bad as it was, didn't distract me from noticing that the man had hit me with more strength than one would guess for his ki level. I hadn't sensed him in the area at all, though I could now. 

The force of my propulsion had ripped holes big enough for him to step through, this familiar face, which was still disturbingly placid.

“ _Uhf..._ ” was the only sound I could manage to get out. I brought myself up to stand on both feet again, the impairment to my body not as severe as it'd initially felt. Because I was still in my base form, I was a lot more damage prone, though a quick assessment of the man before me indicated that I might not need to ascend to pay him back. 

It was apparent that he was trying to stop me from going anywhere – from getting to Father. 

“I don't know why you're doing this... but if you're trying to kill me too... you'll have to do better than that!” I cried, launching from my spot with a punch aimed for his face. 

It hit him dead on, although only caused him to stagger. I few more well-timed strikes and he was completely off-balance, and I sent him flying off to one side with a roundhouse kick to his skull. He didn't go as far as I had, but clearly I could deal him damage. 

In the back of my mind, I recognized that Father was still in the same place, and judging by his even further elevated ki he was going to be fighting with the other stranger – and it would be over quickly, from the apparent difference in their power. As discomposed as I was, I was confident I could take on the big buy alone, or until Father came over here to figure out what was going on, or Gohan and Goten noticed the commotion.

From a quick guess, perhaps the two strangers were involved in some sort of planned attack on the palace, and had knocked out the power in order to cause confusion at least. It was no simple challenge for the throne, because if it had been, even an unorthodox, unplanned battle would involve Father and the challenger only. My position as prince would simply become forfeit if Father lost (though in the challenger's eyes, I could attempt to seek revenge or take back the throne, if I became strong enough to best Father's theoretical match).

However, despite their apparent underestimation of who they were dealing with, I let myself stay wary. This man had slaughtered practically defenceless servants, leaving them in pieces. And unless this maniac was completely stupid, he and his companion wouldn't try to take us down without having something up their sleeves. Like more people on their side, perhaps...

I didn't get to finish the thought as the man attacked me again, forcing me to dodge or deflect his punches. Even still in my base form, I was able to avoid taking any more hits, dealing one or two of my own. 

Lacing one of my fists with ki, I struck him hard in the centre of the chest. He was sent backwards again, and I followed up with a series of energy blasts; then, I came in with another kick, this time right in his solar plexus. There was no rewarding crack of bone I'd been expecting, but he continued his previous trajectory and hurled into a wall. 

He staggered back to his feet, and it was then that I noticed something odd. 

I'd been hitting him over and over, and even if I wasn't going all-out yet, the man ought to have been sporting some evidence of my punches and kicks. Surely, for someone of his power level, I'd struck him enough for that.

And yet there wasn't a single thing to indicate he was taking any damage. Not a scuff or scratch. 

In the beginnings of my frustration, I rushed him again in the split second he was still off-guard and punched him in the jaw, sending him upwards this time through the ceiling. I followed his flight path and continued to land blow after blow as we crashed through both roof and floor and eventually, we met the cool night air. 

A brief look from my peripheral vision told me that the city power was offline too, just like the palace. I had a brief worry about any infants or other people in the hospitals, but I had to keep my attention on the matter at hand. 

I infused myself with just a moment of my Super Saiyan strength, my eyes flashing green as I smashed the man with a knee in his spine and sent him viciously soaring back down, creating a new set of holes through the palace structure. 

I heard his impact even from my place in the sky and I quickly descended a moment after. 

Indistinct grey flew by as I dropped down, landing on my feet just a little ways away from where the man was rising to stand once again. 

“You had enough yet?” I uttered lowly, watching him for any sudden moves. He'd risen to one knee, though seemed to be hovering in that position. I could smell blood, but he still didn't appear to be wounded. 

Somehow, he was able to take an incredible amount of damage, even with the brief influence of my Super Saiyan form. 

I drew my sword. _He may not bruise, but he'll bleed. There's nothing this sword can't cut._

His face was turned towards me slightly, and I caught a glimpse of the first expression I'd ever seen on him. It was pure, sadistic malice. 

He suddenly hurled an object at me so quickly I only had time to slice it in half before it hit me. However, the reflex revealed what it was – _who_ it formerly was – that he'd actually thrown when I felt blood that wasn't mine splatter all over my face, chest and arms. 

I cried out in horror at the insidiously low tactic, the blood in my eyes causing me to drop my guard as he'd predicted I would do and he came in flying. His blow caught the side of my face and I lurched, landing on the ground but rolling back to my feet. 

“You disgusting freak!” I shouted. I'd had enough of this. 

Summoning my innermost energy with a yell, I burst fully into my golden-haired form and jumped back at him head-on, bringing my sword down in a fast arc. 

Except, much to my surprise, he was fast enough to catch it between his hands. 

My confusion was only added to a moment later when I realized that his ki had somehow spiked up much higher than before. And in the glow of my energy, which illuminated all the surrounding area, I could see that it wasn't just my own hair that had changed. 

The man's tresses, formerly plain black, now had a bluish-purple sheen, and his body was emitting a faint glow, along with the blue gemstones on his crown and chest-plate. 

“You look surprised,” he uttered, speaking for the first time. It was like somebody had flipped a switch inside his head; his mannerisms had suddenly become animated, his expression aggressive. 

My astonishment was enough to make my concentration lapse once more and he kicked me in the gut. I hit the wall behind me, though I still had a grip on my blade. 

“Little half-breed filth wants to fight me,” the man taunted. “Didn't like the presents I left behind very much, did you? Anger in the weak is always so amusing.”

“What the hell are you...” I began, but then I understood he was referring to the bodies he'd strewn around and then had the audacity to throw at me. 

“Father said the rest of you weren't my business,” the man continued, “but Father thinks he knows everything. If I squish all you tiny bugs, one of you should get angry enough to be a challenge, yes? Ah, but the little blue one's already gone... You'll just have to do and the king can wait his turn.”

I watched him carefully, waiting for his next move. Even if he was speaking now, it was obvious this guy was even less sane than I'd first thought. It seemed I was right about him having some sort of vendetta with my father, but – 

_Wait. Blue one... Is he talking about Mom?_

While not taking my attention off the towering lunatic in front of me, I extended my senses to try and detect Mom's presence. I'd told the guards to take her somewhere safe if things got dangerous, and this pretty well classified as just that. 

She was not where I'd left her. 

Pushing my awareness further, and briefly detecting Goten (whom I was too anxious to notice anything about except that he was on the move), I found that I still couldn't sense Mom. As small as her energy was, there were only two reasons that I wouldn't be able to find her ki like this, and they were both bad news.

My blood ran cold, but I didn't have time to think about it as my enemy lifted a hand and fired a wide energy blast at me. 

I ran at him, dodging the attack just enough to not have it hit me full-force, though it grazed my left arm. I ignored the sting and cut at the man's legs, then up to his torso and face as he was forced to step back and dodge. 

“What did you do with my mother, you sick fuck?!” I growled, managing to slip past his defences a moment later as I stabbed his shoulder with a satisfying gouge. It had struck right between his deltoid and trapezius muscles, but was too close to the skin and the blade slid out easily, albeit followed noticeably with a spurt of blood. 

The man didn't react like he'd felt it at all. I'd had to move in a close distance to land a strike like that, and it'd put me in range of his grasp. Quick as a flash, he took ahold of my leg and then I was swinging through the air as he bashed me against the wall. 

With the debris flying everywhere, I lost track of what exactly I was being assailed into, only knowing that my sword and probably my scabbard had gone flying off somewhere too. 

Eventually he let go, tossing me as I landed with a more evenly distributed fall, my skull and upper body no longer being subjected to repeated abuse from the walls and floor. 

My head was spinning and as disoriented as I was, I struggled to my feet. There was a bit of blood in my mouth, but I was far from being out of the fight. I was still able to maintain the Super Saiyan transformation without too much effort.

“I – is that all you've got?” I managed to stammer, dizzily focusing my gaze on the man's approaching form. 

Before he could get too close, I raised my arms and performed a quick series of hand movements, stopping to aim my palms at him as soon as the pattern was complete, my thumbs and index fingers touching to form a diamond shape between them. A split second after, a large sphere of energy formed in front of me as I focused my ki into it.

“Take this, you bastard!” I cried, launching my Burning Attack. 

Though it didn't quite give me the result I was expecting, it definitely made its point as the glowing sphere expanded and crashed into my opponent, causing him to grunt and lumber back more than a few steps. Yet when the light cleared, it was obvious that any harm I'd done him wasn't inhibiting him at all. 

Either he had no nerves attached to his brain's pain centre, or he just didn't care. This would make him nigh-on indestructible and able to sustain a ludicrous amount of damage. Not only that, but his ki, ever so slowly, kept creeping up and up. If he stayed at it, pretty soon he would be a lot stronger than I could handle alone. If I was going to win this, I had to end it with one, decisive move, and fast.

_Damn it._ Clearly, none of my own attacks were strong enough, so I would have to come up with something else. However, in order to charge up a technique with the power behind it I needed, I would have to have a distraction. I really doubted the likelihood of my opponent just standing there and letting me gather energy for what I had in mind. It would drain nearly all of my ki, so I couldn't waste the chance with a half-assed shot. Someone else had to help me pull this off. 

_Where the hell is Father? He should've noticed this by now, he wasn't that far away!_

I searched for my father's energy frantically, only to discover a chasm where his fire of life ought to be. 

He, too, was nowhere to be found. It was impossible. 

_No. No, no, no. There's no way they're both dead. There has to be something I'm missing. There has to be!_

I'd been so distracted with my own battle that I hadn't noticed what was going on around me. In fact, the only person I could sense at that moment was Goten, and he was heading my way. If he got here in time, he could help me deal with the most imminent problem; which, stunningly, was now my morale. 

My parents were either dead or dying, and if I lost this fight, my body would probably wind up an unrecognizable red coat on the palace walls. Goten wouldn't be able to fight this man alone either, and if the two of us weren't enough I wouldn't be able to bear watching my best friend get killed. 

I couldn't let that happen. 

With a surge of strength I charged at my enemy, aiming my punch directly at his sadistically grinning face. 

Thirty seconds later and I was a heap on the ground again. 

“What happened to all that bluster, little flea? Are you getting tired already?” my opponent hissed, lifting me up off the ground, his hand around my neck. 

He began increasing the pressure on my windpipe, causing me to gag. 

“What's that? I can't hear you. Come on, I want you to try and scream.” With his unoccupied hand, he grabbed one of mine from where they were clamped around his wrist as I tried in vain to free myself. 

Rather than the slow pain he was inflicting on my neck and trachea, he crushed both the wrist and hand on my right arm in one swift clench, the bones inside snapping audibly. Whatever choked sound I made was apparently not enough for him, as he continued applying force to both places he held me. 

The searing pain caused me to lose all semblance of concentration and I dropped back into my base form. I was unable to scream, I was unable to get myself free. My body was beginning to beg for air, and although it would take anyone with Saiyan blood a while to asphyxiate, my lungs would continue to burn until the man perhaps decided he should just snap my neck and be done with it. 

Somehow, I doubted it would be that easy. 

Then abruptly, the man's body jerked forward. 

I could see it took him a second to process what had just happened – why there was suddenly the end of a rather large sword sticking out from between his ribs. 

I was unceremoniously dumped back on the ground as the man reeled, the sword yanked out of his chest from where its wielder stood behind him. 

The newcomer, their hair glowing golden, then struck my opponent through the walls. 

“Trunks!” Goten cried, crossing the few feet between us. I sat up, coughing as he knelt in front of me with his hand on my shoulder.

“Shit, you look bad,” he said, a slight tremor in his voice. “Can you even stand?”

“Yeah. The blood's not all mine,” I hacked out, wobbling to my feet as he helped me up. 

“Why the fuck did Vegeta leave you to fight alone? Wasn't he here?” Goten demanded. 

“I don't know where he is!” I replied in hoarse frustration. “I can't – I haven't been able to sense his energy! Mom is gone too!”

I powered up again, knowing that our opponent was going to be back in a few scarce moments. It would be easier to deal with my injuries in Super Saiyan form, although they were definitely going to hurt like a bitch once I dropped out of it again.

“I think Gohan went to find them. I'm not sure. But -” Goten attempted, but I cut him off. 

“No time,” I said as suddenly the ground shook from the rage of our enemy. A moment later he burst back through, completely ignoring the lesion in his chest where blood was running out. However, his livid gaze was completely on Goten now.

“Ka...” the nameless man growled undecipherably. “Kar...” 

Goten and I readied ourselves, he with my sword in one hand and staying on my right side, where I now had a partially broken hand. I could probably still fire energy with it, but I wouldn't be able to throw or block a punch with any degree of effectiveness. And although I still had some ki reserves, my wounds would ensure more energy would be wasted compensating for them. 

However, the tables had turned now. Our opponent was bleeding, and I now had the extra person I needed to help me take out this maniac. My sliver of hope had come through, at least so far. Whether we managed to pull anything off remained to be seen. 

“So,” my friend said quietly, “you got a plan?”


	16. Chapter 16

“Ka... Ka... Rot...” 

Goten and I stood prepared, awaiting the man's next move. However, something seemed to be perplexing him – he was not immediately attacking us after recuperating from Goten's blow. 

“Is he saying Dad's name? Why...” Goten whispered so that only I could hear. I took a quick glance at my friend. 

In his Super Saiyan form, Goten _did_ look a lot like his dad. Only someone who knew them well would be able to tell the difference. Since he'd arrived in this form, maybe our opponent didn't know they weren't one and the same. But then again, how would the stranger know who Goku – Kakarot – was? 

My gaze snapped back to the enemy. It didn't matter right now. What mattered was devising a way to beat this guy, because if anything, he looked more enraged now than before. 

A moment later, the blue gems on the man's chest and forehead began to glow, and he roared before leaping at us, probably intending to crush us with his brute strength and size. 

I leaped off to one side and Goten to the other, allowing the massive man to smash up the flooring where we'd been a split second before. 

“We have to lead him outside or soon enough the roof's gonna be falling down on our heads!” Goten shouted, indicating how much of this section of the palace had already been smashed up. I internally agreed, briefly wondering how simple that would actually be until I realized that the man was almost entirely fixed on attacking Goten now.

Goten, I supposed, had already noticed this. “Come catch me, you freak!” he called before blasting up through the ceiling, still carrying my sword, and our opponent wasted not a moment to follow. The resulting crashing noises from their creation of more holes made me wince – I hadn't really been paying attention to the mess we'd made of the place. 

I flew up in the same path after them, arriving in the night sky just in time to see Goten deal our opponent a few harsh blows to the gut. In response, the man raised his hands up, clasped, and was about to bring them down on Goten until I distracted the man by firing a beam of energy at his back. 

“I'm still here too, asshole!” I shouted through the pain in my throat at the man as I flew towards him, body-checking him through the air. Having momentarily forgotten about me, I'd caught him with a measure of surprise with both my strikes and my latest one was successful, putting some distance between him and us half-bloods. 

With more space and just enough time to pull it off, Goten chanted and fired off a lower-level Kamehameha wave, causing the enemy to soar off again and crash into the archive tower. 

“'Ten. I have an idea, but I need a bit of time to charge up the attack,” I said. The exertion was keeping our enemy's wounds flowing – the one I'd inflicted on his shoulder was only inconvenient, but the injury on his chest would be debilitating for anyone else. Either way, they played in our favour. “He's already hurt, and I think a large enough blast might be enough to take him down.”

I watched the upper half of the archive topple down as it gained speed in its noisy descent.

“Our only other option is that I distract him until you can fire off a big enough Kamehameha,” I finished. 

“I'll be the distraction,” Goten offered, gesturing at my injured hand. “If you can't hold him off properly with that this won't work. Besides, when do I ever get to use your sword?”

I smirked a little. “Alright. Try to keep him in the air when I'm ready to fire. I don't want to wind up aiming anywhere near the ground or we'll be minus a planet.”

In the distance, our opponent freed himself from the wreckage. I though he was going to charge right back at us until I saw him wrench a massive piece of twisted metal from the broken building, presumably to use as a battering tool. 

“Trunks, you don't have long,” Goten reminded before darting away towards the enemy head-on. 

I let a breath out, trying to find my centre as I hovered in the air and pulled my hands back into position. I didn't know how to do the Kamehameha myself, so I had one other option with the same focused strength: the Galick Gun. 

The mechanism for the technique seemed easy enough on the outside: charge up, release. But it really wasn't that simple. I'd only done it successfully a couple times before, and I couldn't perform it with the same speed or efficiency that Father could. But it wasn't like I'd ever needed it until now, when brute energy release wouldn't cut it.

The beginnings of the summoned ki were starting to burn my broken hand and my other miscellaneous injuries, but I ignored it. I let the pool of energy spread throughout my body, feeling the familiar adrenaline pump rise from my chest as I carefully watched Goten do his best to fend off our opponent. 

It was a good thing Goten had kept my blade handy – the nameless man was trying to smash him with the former building chunk, but my weapon was cutting right through it. Goten handled the sword a lot clumsier than I did, but the finer details of that didn't matter so much right now. 

Flashes of light would erupt in the darkness from their brawl, though Goten was already glowing from his transformation. I was slowly letting off more and more brightness, thanks to the amassing of all the energy I had left. If there was anybody in the city streets a little ways from here – and I didn't doubt there were a number of people wandering around in confusion because of the blackout – they would be able to see the airborne battle from this distance. 

Goten and the man seemed to be on an even level until a few extreme blows caused Goten to drop to the palace below, my gaze trailing his path. 

I grit my teeth, hoping it wasn't serious. Neither Goten nor I were wearing armour, so what little extra protection that offered was gone. 

But to my consternation, our opponent didn't follow him. He was close enough that I could see his attention had turned to me. 

I had a split second to make a choice. If he was going to go after me, I could only dodge and let the energy dispel, wasted, or fire the Galick Gun at half strength. If I fired it at half-strength, it wouldn't be enough. 

Both options meant I would be in a very bad place. 

My opponent had just begun to move when an energy blast from beneath him stopped him dead in his tracks. The shot had been fired at enough of an angle to move him away a safe distance again. 

Goten soared up from below, stopping to hover just a little ways in front of me. 

“Take that!” he cried as he hurled my sword at our recovering opponent. The blade went swinging through the air, end over end, almost faster than one could see in the night. 

The man reacted quicker than expected, tilted his body slightly, and the sword went flying past him off into the sky.

“... Whoops,” Goten said. “I'll, uh, get that back for you later.”

“It's fine. I just need another thirty seconds and then you'd better get out of the way,” I said. The glow surrounding me was now a blaze; small pieces of debris had made their way to hover in the air around me. 

Goten nodded, but didn't move away again. Instead, he took a few precious seconds of his own and charged up another Kamehameha, blasting it at our opponent to keep the man from advancing towards us. 

He kept it up while I harnessed the last remaining drops of my power; he was continuously raising the strength of his own attack in an effort to combat our enemy's backlash against it. 

“ _Hrngh_ – hurry up and fire that thing right now!” Goten cried over the sound of his and his opponent's attack collision.

Feeling the final stores of my inner ki summoned around my outside body, I roared and unleashed the wide, pent-up blast, resulting in a massive coloured beam firing from my outstretched hands.

It seemed to engulf everything in its wake, lighting up the night sky for several seconds, obliterating anything in its path. 

When the cataclysm cleared, in the far distance I could see the speck of my opponent's body fall to the ground. And then I, too, was falling, exhausted beyond measure, unable to hold my transformation or even to keep myself in the air. 

Goten caught me before I fell too far, though judging by his harsh breathing he didn't have much left in him either. He lowered us to a spot on the palace roof that hadn't been destroyed, setting us both down with care. 

“His energy's gone,” he said, tumbling down to lie on his back like I was. I couldn't sit up at this point if I wanted to. 

We remained like that for several minutes, unable to do much but rest. 

After a time, Goten sat up, and I reluctantly attempted the same in a much slower fashion. Everything hurt, but the worst was my throat, everything below the elbow on my right arm, and another sore spot on the side of my head I hadn't noticed before. 

“I guess... I'd better see if I can go find your sword,” my friend said, his breathing having levelled out. “It's sturdy enough to survive falling to the ground, right? I guess there's not much else we can do until everyone else comes back...”

Suddenly, all the worries I'd had came crashing right back onto me. “Oh! M – my parents! We have to go find them,” I said, my voice still sounding awful.

“Whoa, hold on a sec. You're not in any shape to go places.”

“I still can't sense them... b – but they can't be dead. They wouldn't just give up like that,” I continued. 

“Trunks, are you listening? Look, you can't even stand up, much less walk or fly anywhere,” he pointed out as I tried to do just that, not succeeding. 

“Y – you don't understand. It's been too long.” I collapsed back to a sitting position, running my good hand through my hair. “That guy. It isn't possible for him to have done anything, but s – somebody... My mother and father... Where could they possibly go that I c – can't sense them?”

“I don't know,” Goten admitted, biting his lip and pausing, as if trying to sense them himself, and then repeated his words. “I don't know. But I didn't sense your father fighting at all, so there's no way he could just... you know.”

“He should've sensed us fighting and come back,” I said. “It's not right! Who – whoever these guys are, they're willing to butcher people regardless of whether they can fight back. I l – left Mom with – those guards that were probably on the enemy side! I just left her there!”

“Trunks, we'll find them, but there's nothing we can do right now! Vegeta wouldn't let anything happen to your mom, okay? Gohan had a head start and he's probably where your parents are right now. I can't sense him either, see?”

He was right. Gohan's energy was absent, too. 

“Come on. The best we can do is get your sword back. I threw that thing pretty hard, so it might take us a while,” Goten said calmly, rising to his feet. 

He helped me up, linking my arm over his shoulder so he could support my weight while flying or walking (neither of which I could do on my own). 

“Goten,” I said. 

“Yeah?”

“I'm sorry you got dragged into this – that I couldn't fight him by myself.”

“What do you think friends are for, huh?”

 

\---

 

We hadn't come across our opponent's body so far, but we had found his broken breastplate. As his energy was completely gone, we weren't concerned about him having survived the Galick Gun and Kamehameha combination, so we left our guard relaxed as we scanned around. Even if something did burst out of the shadows, we didn't have enough energy to do much anyway.

Currently, we were searching through the rubble near where the archive stood – where the bottom half of it stood, anyway. The top half was laying in pieces all around us. Our investigation was made more complicated by our vision, still slightly limited at night.

“I'm sure it landed somewhere near here. Maybe,” Goten said. 

“You don't sound very sure,” I responded. We weren't making very much ground, as I was still leaning on him, restricting his dexterity. 

“This is why Mom always told me never to throw other people's things,” he whined, then paused. “Wait... I think that's it there!”

I looked up to where he gestured. Sure enough, I could see something metallic reflecting what little light there was off its surface, the thing – which was indeed my sword – lodged up high in part of what was left of the archive. 

“Oh, good. Go get it,” I said to him.

“Why do I have to get it?”

“One, you borrowed it without my permission first and then you threw it. Two, you're the only one of us that can fly right now. Three, princes don't do menial chores,” I said, trying to lighten the mood a bit (for myself, mostly – I was still pretty shaken up from my ordeal).   
“Alright, alright,” he replied as he set me on the ground. 

Instead of flying, he jumped as high as he could, grabbing onto the protruding handle of the weapon to hold himself there, and then used that weight to tug it free. He dropped back down as gracefully as his tired state would allow and then brought the blade over. 

“At least it didn't break or anything,” he said. 

“It'll take more than that.” Just in case though, I inspected it briefly before deciding it was as good as always. 

“The scabbard fell off somewhere inside the palace. We should check there next,” I said, then pursed my lips. “There's... bodies in there too. We ought to – to move them or something. There could be more elsewhere, though I'm pretty sure most of the people in there left.”

“Bodies? Did someone get caught in the crossfire?”

“... Not like that. That man killed them beforehand at some point. Thinking back on it, I'm certain that the guards in there were all in on this. The ones who died were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Goten was silent, but he offered me a hand up again. 

We got inside through one of the various holes that had been made, and after a little more searching, we managed to pick the sheath out of the rubble. We did also find the area where the corpses were, the scent alerting us first, but after my vague answer regarding their state he opted to incinerate them from a distance, as they weren't identifiable anyway. If they'd been registered as on-duty at the time, they would turn up as missing and we could distinguish them as having been the ones who'd passed away, after everything was back in order. 

Next, we discussed whether to take a look at the nearest power matrix and see if we could get something working again. However, we concluded that the earthquake-like phenomenon meant that they'd been blown up, and anyhow, neither of us had enough technological skill to fix them.

“Okay. What now, then? Do we just wait around?” I asked.

“Maybe we could find something to... clean you up a bit? There's blood all over you and if your mom comes back with you looking like that, she'll have a goddamn heart attack,” Goten replied. But then, a second later, his expression changed. 

“Do you sense that? It's Gohan!” he cried. 

I started, then extended my own senses and concentrated as hard as I could. 

_That is Gohan! But who's with him? Is that... Yes! It's Mom! She's alright! And is that Father? But his energy is so low... What the hell happened to them?_

The three of them were coming our way, so now sitting tight really was our best option. 

“They're alive,” I sighed, allowing some of the tension in my shoulders to recede. “They're alive, they're alive. Thank the gods.”

A few minutes later (though it seemed a lot longer), Gohan's energy drew very close. Goten and I moved around the palace a bit until we found the spot in the broken ceiling the oldest half-blood was just descending through, with my father in his arms bridal style and Mom hanging onto Gohan's back with her arms around his neck for support. 

As soon as Gohan touched down, Mom ran to me. She looked a little roughed up, but otherwise in full health, and I felt my chest warm in relief. 

I was sitting on a piece of rubble, but she nearly scooped me to my feet nonetheless, despite her small size. However, she seemed to take the hint a moment after that I couldn't stand very well, and contented herself with petting my hair as I hugged her stomach. 

“Trunks, Trunks, my boy. You're okay,” she said, and after a few moments of this she started including Goten in her embrace of relief. 

“I'm sorry I left you there, Mom. I'm so sorry. When I couldn't sense you, I thought you were dead,” I apologized, but she shushed me. 

“You're in much worse shape than I am. You're covered in blood and your voice sounds awful,” she said.

“It looks worse than it is,” I explained before we released each other. “Goten got here in time to help. But what about Father? Is he alright?” I asked. Gohan had set Father down so that he was lying on the ground with torso propped up against the wall. 

“He's been going in and out of consciousness,” Gohan said as Goten and Mom walked me over before the latter knelt down by Father. Now that I was close enough, I could see small, dried trails of blood coming from Father's mouth and nose, but none of his clothes were damaged and he had no other cuts or bruises I could see. His eyes were closed and his breathing seemed strained, but even. 

“What's wrong with him?” I enquired, the pained expression on his face worrying me. 

“I think some of his internal organs are damaged. Regardless of the details, we need to get electricity running back to at least one healing tank. Bulma, is that something we can do?” Gohan said.

“I can try,” she replied, her voice shaky as she looked at Father. She brushed his face softly. “It's best we go to the medical ward anyway. Even if there's no electricity, we can find other things to use for now.”

“Agreed,” Gohan said. He gently lifted Father up again and I leaned on Goten (who carried my sheathed sword in his other hand), and the five of us began our trek to the med bay.

Despite our plodding pace, we reached our destination after not too long, though once again the door had to be wrenched away so we could access it. 

We navigated our way carefully through the dark facility until we reached the area where the desired pods were, silent and still. Mom strode over to them right away, Gohan following behind her with a small energy ball in one hand so as to give her some light to work with. 

Peeling back the covering on the central panel, Mom started getting to work, asking Goten to see if he could look around and find her a few things she could make to function as a replacement battery of some sort. 

“Are you sure this is gonna work?” Goten asked, sounding dubious about what she'd asked for.

“An idiot can power a lightbulb out of a potato, Goten! You don't think a genius like me knows what she's doing? Now go do as I say and hurry!”

Goten promptly scurried off.

Meanwhile, I was seated nearby, keeping an eye on Father's condition, which didn't seem to be getting any better. 

After a few minutes, my curiosity and anxiousness demanded I get some answers. 

“Gohan,” I said, catching his attention. He stayed where he was but turned to look at me, the light of his own energy sphere reflecting in his eyes. 

“Do you know what's actually been going on? What happened?” I asked.

He pursed his lips, eyes going to the ground as if in thought. “I'm not completely certain. I didn't arrive quickly enough to do much but get your parents out of there. I can tell you a little, but perhaps it's best to hear it with Vegeta's contribution when he wakes.”

I sighed. I didn't have the energy to press the issue. 

“Even with this pod up and running, it'll be up to a few hours per person to heal,” Gohan continued. “Maybe you should try to rest until then. You're exhausted – take advantage and sleep for the hours you can.”

I blinked slowly, just then realizing that a small portion of my energy deficit was because of the time. I didn't know if I could actually sleep – I could certainly try – but my remnant physical pain might prevent that.

Taking one last glance at Father, I adjusted my place against the wall and shut my eyes, instantly feeling gratified from the act. 

I was still battered and bloodied, but when it was my turn to use the pod, the amnic fluid would dissolve the dried blood from my skin. If I could handle sleeping the way I was for a little while, my condition wouldn't be a problem. 

I calmed my mind and let the peaceful darkness flood its way in, wondering if sleep indeed was the best thing.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note that this chapter is told in third person POV instead of Trunks' first person. This is so I can describe what was/is going on with the other characters in this section of the story, before and while the battle started in the last two chapters is taking place (instead of monologues told by these characters to Trunks afterwards). The POV will return to first person in the next chapter.

**_Sometime earlier, in the palace's throne room..._ **

The last council spokesman had left awhile ago, aware that discussing foul news was worsening the king's already foul mood. 

Though there were few cities on the planet, and most classified as merely outposts, the next largest one other than the capitol was suffering an ongoing water deficit, Vegeta had been reminded. He was having a hard time thinking about it at the moment. In fact, he was having trouble focusing on anything at all, and his wandering mind kept being tugged back to the nagging background thoughts he'd been having all day. 

Or, specifically, what he was going to do about a certain teenage boy (though officially an adult, this had failed to change much in him), who had all but outright threatened to leave everything behind for the sake of some ridiculous notion of payback. The one instance so far where they'd been going to fight out some of their frustrations had been interrupted – so as it was, they hadn't had an outlet of any kind so far. 

Vegeta massaged his temple with one hand. Even just touching the surface of the issue was going to give him a headache.

The rebellious fits typical of Trunks' age group were one thing, Vegeta knew, but this was another. He himself had been an exceptionally horrific teenager, but those times weren't memories he liked to revisit anyway. Besides, the boy was different. In some ways, he took after his mother – he was more sentimental than he liked to let on. He was unaware of the divergence between his own moral compass and that of most other Saiyans (excluding Kakarot and his family, of course). Actions that Vegeta had taken in the past, when he'd been a different man, would be unthinkable to Trunks no matter what. Hence the inability to resolve the cognitive dissonance, even though the boy denied it.

The king stood from his seat. Being mentally agitated was making him physically agitated, and had he still had his tail, it would've echoed his mood by curling in annoyance.

What should he have done, continue to lie? It would've been cowardly and so much worse to do so, so he hadn't shrunk from the consequences of telling one's child how they were essentially to be sold as a peace offering. Trunks was strong enough now to hold his own against whatever Frieza might throw at him (at least physically), but Vegeta had once hoped that the boy might get strong enough to surpass the tyrant. However, it seemed the biological limit was in place for all who carried Saiyan blood, regardless of how noble their motivations. This defeated hope meant that Trunks' moral ability wouldn't fuel his strength – it would just get him killed. The other two boys, and even Kakarot, were no better. 

The sole person who would remain unscathed was the little girl Vegeta had held only once. Her pride would never compel her to seek a revenge she couldn't obtain, should anything happen to the family she knew almost nothing of. She could never be used as a weapon in the wrong hands. Bulma ought to have been sent away with her, for her own safety, but that was a decision Vegeta was never able to make.

He was tugged from his thoughts by a noise, someone entering the throne room whom he didn't recognize the energy of. Without turning to face them, he verbally lashed in their direction. 

“Who gave you permission to come in here? Get out,” he growled. 

“I can't say I anticipated anything polite, but you exceed your abrasive reputation, Vegeta,” the male voice replied. 

At the suspicious lack of title accompanying his name, Vegeta turned around.

The man approaching him looked dimly familiar – tall, darker skin than Vegeta's own, a scar in the spot where one of his eyes should be. Power level not appearing to be anything noteworthy in comparison with Vegeta's. He wore a scouter, but other than that, the armour he wore was different than standard issue. 

“And who are you supposed to be?” he asked the stranger none-too-kindly. 

“Paragus,” the other man said, “though I don't except you to remember or know of me. Don't worry, we'll fix that.”

“Oh, is that right? If you're here to challenge me, perhaps you should've waited until I was asleep. I don't have patience when I'm tired, and I'd have killed you a lot quicker than what I'm considering doing now.” 

This wasn't the first time a grossly underpowered competitor had approached Vegeta, and although he wasn't in the best mood to humour them for it, it'd been quite some time since the last one. If Vegeta decided to go easy, maybe he could get a five-minute punching bag out of this 'Paragus.'

“Straight to the point, hm?” Paragus said, as if he were chiding Vegeta. “In that case, I ought to tell you that I'm not here to challenge you. I have something much better in mind, _my king_. What would be the point in us trying to kill each other before you even know why I'm here?”

Even standing several few feet away from Vegeta, the man seemed to dwarf him. The average Saiyan may have felt intimidated by Paragus' stature and expression that told of years of battle and hardship, but Vegeta was not the average Saiyan. And now, admittedly, he was a bit curious as to what the other man wanted.

“Well then, why _are_ you here?” Vegeta demanded.

There wasn't a moment for an answer as all at once, the ground began to tremble violently and the lights abruptly went out. 

Vegeta had to take a few wobbled steps to keep his equilibrium, but he managed to stay upright and maintain his centre of gravity. Paragus, it seemed, had levitated just high enough off the ground to avoid feeling the effects of the quake. 

“The hell?” Vegeta questioned after the movement had stopped and his vision had adjusted. 

“That was step one,” Paragus said, and Vegeta immediately strode up to him and took ahold of the taller man's shirt. 

“Calm yourself, Vegeta. Maiming me won't help your cause,” the man continued. “Things have already been set in motion, and if you really do carry out on your threat to kill me, there will be no one with the power to stop this.”

“Shut your mouth unless I ask you a question. Let's start with this: what's to stop me from beating you to a pulp, going to find out whatever you've just done with the power, and then coming back to interrogate you at my leisure?”

Paragus chuckled. It was hard to tell in the dark, but he did seem a little worried to have Vegeta standing so dangerously close.

“Here I was, forgetting that you can be as witless as your father and equally as quick to threaten when the tiniest thing goes wrong. And I used to think this wouldn't be the same without him here.”

Vegeta narrowed his eyes, ignoring the insults in favour of questioning what use comparing him to dead man was now. “What does my father have to do with this?”

A wicked light burned behind Paragus' eyes. “Everything.”

Again, the ground shook, but this time both Vegeta and Paragus stayed in place.

 

\---

 

“What could it be?” Goten asked. 

Gohan had been awake prior to the first shockwave, and Goten had stirred from sleep as a result of noticing his brother on alert. The quakes themselves hadn't seemed like much, but the second time around they'd been accompanied by the sudden deadening of the hum of power that was normally there. 

“Don't know,” Gohan said. He wasn't entirely sure what or where the origin of the shaking might be, but his gut was giving him a bad feeling – that, and the sudden loss of power, even though the house had been dark already. 

His ki senses told him both Trunks and Vegeta were on guard, but nothing more than that yet. Gohan assumed, then, that they were in the same boat as far as knowing what had happened, and that the palace's grid was likely down too. 

“I think I'm going to go check it out,” Gohan said, brows furrowing slightly in thought. “Maybe you ought to wait here.”

“Wait here? But...”

“It's probably nothing, Goten. Besides, you can detect if something unusual happens to my energy. I'll be back in a little while, okay? Stay with Gine.”

Goten paused, then nodded. Gohan took that as a proper agreement and left the room, immediately taking to the air once he was outside the house.

While in flight, he mulled over whether he should go to Trunks first, or to Vegeta or even Bulma. However, concentrating, he noticed that Trunks was headed in his father's direction, and Bulma was moving away. 

_If Trunks left his mom, she's probably going to retrieve or investigate something. I should meet up with Vegeta, since Trunks is also going that way,_ Gohan thought.

The half-blood soared off through the sky, slightly faster than his normal pace but well within controlled limits.

 

\---

 

“You haven't a clue about what your family has done – your father, most of all,” Paragus said. “The things he sanctioned upon mere children. But perhaps that comes as no surprise to someone like you, who spent his life under Frieza's boot because your father was a coward.”

“If you think you're special because you hated my father, you've got another thing coming. And need I remind you that all Saiyans fall under Frieza's shadow, no matter what delusions you may hold.”

“Interesting choice of words. But the only difference I see between you and our previous king is that you've somehow managed to spare your own child from this cycle thus far. Love is a powerful tool, isn't it? Especially for one's children. How it changes everything.”

Though Vegeta knew Paragus was referring to Trunks, the wording was ambiguous enough that it could also apply to Bulla. But Vegeta knew her existence was secret, so he set the thought aside. 

“What is it you want?” he growled. Paragus had yet to be clear about his true aims and Vegeta was tired of beating around the bush. 

“What I want is to break the cycle.”

Vegeta let out a torrent of mirthless laughter. “You intend to kill Frieza, when I myself cannot? What a joke. Were you planning on taking me down and then rebelling with our people behind you?”

“I do intend to watch you die, my king, and perhaps one day Frieza will follow. But first, now that the time is right, I intend to destroy everything you call yours – starting with what you treasure most.”

Paragus was sent flying into the wall, not hard enough to do him serious damage but hard enough to be a threat. Vegeta retracted the arm he'd swung; he'd needed to make no other movement to throw the taller man.

“Is that so, Paragus?” Vegeta said, taking leisured steps towards the other Saiyan. “Allow me to reiterate. A weakling like you will be broken before you get anywhere near what is mine. If you think -”

“Lay so much as another finger on me, and your little blue whore dies,” Paragus grit out before Vegeta could get any closer.

Vegeta stopped. 

“That's right. Stay right where you are,” Paragus said as he righted himself to a proper standing position. “You think I wouldn't have some kind of contingency plan, when you're clearly stronger than I am? I know you can sense energy with your mind. Go ahead – see if you can find her.”

Expanding his senses to their maximum range, Vegeta's pulse quickened when he realized that Bulma's energy was completely gone. 

“What have you done?” Vegeta said lowly, his hands balling into fists.

“You can't sense her, can you? Don't worry, she's still alive. Though the longer we wait, I can't guarantee what she might be subjected to. My only orders were not to kill her, my men might have other ideas.” Paragus' confidence seemed to have returned with the unveiling of his leverage. 

“Ah, there it is. That's the look I want to see. But it's no use venting your rage on me, Vegeta. All of this is because of you. Behave yourself, and the woman may come to no harm. I cannot say the same for your son, however,” Paragus continued. 

Distantly, there was a crashing sound, like something breaking through walls. Trunks' energy was now raised in combat with an unfamiliar opponent, whose ki had a strange feel to it.

“It's only fitting that his death be at _my_ son's hand – Broly is the one who's suffered the most for your family's crimes, after all. But don't think that you'll be going anywhere near that battle. With a single word, the woman will perish.” Paragus tapped his scouter.

“This device is locked onto my vitals. Crushing it will yield the same result as any other reckless actions from you. Leaving to save that boy is one of them. Instead, you are going to follow me quietly and peacefully, and I'll take you to your beloved. Recall all those old obedience lessons you learned from our Lord Frieza to help you understand the situation, if you must.”

If Vegeta were to break one of Paragus' bones for every word that had come out of the man's mouth, the Saiyan king was certain he'd run out before the fury building in his chest was satisfied. Of course, as soon as Bulma was safe, there would be nothing stopping him. And as of now, Trunks appeared to be an even enough match for his unknown opponent – unless he was on the verge of death, Vegeta wouldn't interfere anyway lest he dishonour his son's abilities. 

Besides, the two Son boys were on the planet as well. 

 

\---

 

About halfway to the palace, Gohan sensed that Vegeta was suddenly on the move – at a speed suggesting he'd also taken flight. 

Honing his senses further, Gohan also became aware that Vegeta seemed to be following someone whom the half-blood didn't recognize. 

That, and Trunks was now in the midst of battle. 

Gohan slowed his pace somewhat. _Alright, what should I do now?_

Gauging the strength of Trunks' battle partner, in all likelihood the prince was going to have a bit of a fight on his hands. However, aside from the eerie feel the unfamiliar ki carried, Gohan didn't doubt that Trunks would emerge the victor without interference. 

So what was his father up to, then?

Making his decision, Gohan lowered his own energy, as much as he could without dropping out of the sky, and angled his direction to follow after the king. 

Decreasing one's energy would sacrifice some speed, but to everyone – save the most experienced sensors – Gohan was now undetectable.

 

\---

 

Vegeta had followed Paragus out past the city, which was dark from the power outage. Even though the other man had set the pace, they'd flown fairly quickly until Paragus descended from the air to set his feet in the sand. Vegeta followed suit, even though the area appeared to be devoid of anything but the desert. 

Paragus seemed quite confident however (not just in his location, but in the fact that he was sure Vegeta wouldn't risk killing him), taking a few steps before stopping and raising a hand to his scouter, speaking something into it. 

A moment after, something flickered into existence on the ground before the two men: a large, metal panel, or an entryway built into the earth. From the visual static that accompanied its appearance, Vegeta assumed it had been cloaked with technology from aerial view (and also presumably had its own breaker system, considering the situation back at the palace). 

The panel split down the centre and the edges started to retreat. The steel mouth yawned open, slowly revealing a dark passage that descended into the planet's subterranean depths. Streams of sand trickled down the lip of the wide staircase, shifting with the entry's movement. In the night, the descent looked like a black chasm.

Paragus wasted no words as he began taking the steps at a regular pace. And though Vegeta had deduced an obvious trap was involved, he followed regardless, with little else in the way of choice. Paragus had allowed no room to stall for time; and besides, Vegeta's pride demanded he handle this alone. Bulma was his responsibility to protect. 

A certain distance down the steps, Vegeta noticed that Paragus' energy disappeared, only to reappear just after Vegeta passed the same area. In doing so, the king became aware that he could no longer sense the auras of those outside.

However, what he could sense now was Bulma, along with a few other presences that weren't quite familiar. For Paragus' sake, she had best be without a single scratch.

Vegeta assumed that some sort of field was being generated to prevent energy detection from scouters or different methods (technological or otherwise). If that was the case, it meant he really was on his own for now. It also meant he had no way to monitor what was going on outside – but perhaps that was within the designs of the trap. 

When they had passed the bottom of the staircase and moved on, Vegeta could hear the entrance close. 

From initial glances here and there around the dim hallways as he followed Paragus, Vegeta was certain that this had to be an entire complex built underground, and not just a small hideout. It was far enough into the desert to stay hidden, but not far enough to reach the volcanic mountain range that ringed this section of the world. Neither was it in the same direction where the first inhabitants of the planet had left some of their ruins. Without these notable landmarks, it would be difficult to find the place without someone inside guiding your way. 

The interior of the place was lit with small lights that ran along the length of the steel floors. So far, everything had looked alike – Vegeta had been sorely tempted to bash his way through the walls to make a straight line to his destination, but until the woman was within arm's reach he thought it best to reign in his frustrations. However, he also doubted that finding and walking out with her would be so easy; not with how elaborate the plot appeared to be crafted. Paragus had yet to be specific on the motives for this vendetta. 

After navigating through several corridors, the taller Saiyan stopped at a door, entering a passcode on the touch pad. 

When the door slid open and Paragus entered, allowing Vegeta to enter as well and see inside, the impressive magnitude and layout of the area became nothing as his gaze landed on a blue-haired form on the other side of it, within the massive circular platform that took up half the room's space. 

Bulma lay on the ground of the elliptic shape, very very still. 

Vegeta wasn't even two steps inside the circle's edge before it felt like he was struck by a bolt of lightning, pain searing through his entire body. 

It caused him to instantly stop in place, dropping to one knee as the only way he could support himself. His muscles simultaneously felt heavy and like they were being torn apart. It wasn't the sensation of suffocating in heavy gravity, more like he was being slowly engulfed in hot lead. 

As much as he fought to raise himself up, his own body was betraying him. The barely-there humming that droned in his ears confirmed that something inside the circle's boundary was doing this.

“That was easier than I'd thought,” Paragus said. “You literally walked right into it.”

With a few selections made on the electronic console beside him, a grey shield rose up around the circle's perimeter, cutting off Vegeta's sight of anything but inside. However, he could still clearly make out Paragus' voice as the man talked. 

“This chamber was designed for someone much stronger than you, Vegeta. I can tell you're trying to raise your energy, but that will do nothing but make it worse. Even your poor imitation of a Super Saiyan is useless.” 

Ignoring the man's words, Vegeta ascended to his golden state, struggling to his feet and turning to lean his weight on the new barrier, casting a quick glance at Bulma. Whatever was happening to him, it had clearly already been activated before the wall had risen, meaning Bulma had been subjected to this for an untold amount of time previous to his arrival. He didn't smell blood, but he needed to break down the wall and get her out. 

Vegeta summoned what strength he could and punched the wall as hard as he was able, causing it to tremble a little but otherwise sustain no mark. 

A pressure had begun to build in his chest, like there was a massive rock sitting on it. Dismissing it along with the rest of his pain, he struck the wall again, to the same effect.

“Paragus! Are you too afraid of me to fight like a man? Open this and I'll rip you apart!”

“Have you been listening to a word I've said, Vegeta? Only an idiot would bet my raw strength against yours. Besides, this isn't about honour. This is about revenge.”

“Piece of shit coward!” Vegeta hit the wall again, already breathing hard. He didn't know what was keeping him standing aside from absolute willpower. 

“I'll admit, I thought you'd succumb to the effects a lot faster. Even my son stopped fighting after the first few times. On the lowest level, it does nothing but cause debilitating pain – easily recovered from. But on this setting, the results are much worse, and fighting it only hastens the process. Ah, but don't worry. It's currently attuned to Saiyan biology. That woman is immune to the pain you feel.”

As Paragus' words echoed around the chamber, Vegeta collapsed to a genuflected position once more. 

“I assume you're wondering what's happening to you,” Paragus offered. “I spent a lot of time figuring out ways to kill you slowly. I tested poisons on some of your supporters, but the substances lacked the duration and finesse I wanted.”

“Y - ... You call this finesse?”

“Indeed. Of course, some adjustments had to be made to extend the scope of the machine's capabilities, but it serves both its original and new purpose well. I created it initially as a means to help subdue my son's more violent fits – a cage, if you will. I had no other choice.” 

Paragus' tone had taken on a more serious and less clinical tone at his ending sentence, but his voice returned to its previous gloat as he continued. 

“The machine breaks down your cells little by little, affecting your muscle tissue as I see you've already noticed. However, your organs are a much more vulnerable target, and though you may not be able to distinguish it, they are being destroyed at a much faster rate. You'll eventually notice those effects too, until your brain succumbs and I doubt you'll understand much at all. But you have hours yet to go. That's the beauty of it. You won't get to die until I make you suffer how we did.”

“What... are you...” Vegeta tried, but the pain was beginning to overwhelm him; he had barely noticed he'd dropped back down to base form. 

“I have more than just a few Saiyans who are on my side – who can't stand to see their leader defile his honour and contaminate Saiyan blood by siring a half-breed. But those people are merely my tools for a greater purpose. You see, despite his origins, your son is still of royal blood, and has the majority of our people's support. All the same, his life belonged to Frieza, and I thought that would remove him from the picture. No one who knew of that lizard's stratagem thought you would return with the prince, but when you did, I thereon changed my plans. He was something I could use against _you_ , when your father died before I could kill him myself.”

As Vegeta listened, he felt something trickling out of his nose. He knew it was blood. 

“ _My_ only son...” Paragus said. “Every day he grew, every day of our survival, I knew we came closer to our revenge. He was born the same day as that mentally crippled Kakarot – in the same ward. I had to wait until he left the planet, it's too difficult to control Broly around him. From the moment my son was born, even in his first minutes of life, it was clear he was no ordinary child. He was gifted with an unnatural level of power, high enough to unnerve your father, and he feared whether the infant could be controlled. They tore the babe from his dead mother, and despite my pleas, ordered him to be killed. When I fought them, I was disposed along with my infant son and left to die. There was no honourable demise for us. We were discarded like rotting animal skins.”

Trying to get his mental faculties to work through his suffering, Vegeta found that he had no memory of these events, or even being told about them. Ordinarily, if a child so strong was born among the elite class, news would spread. Evidently, the previous king had managed to keep what would have been a controversial infanticide quiet.

“Miraculously,” Paragus went on, “we survived and fled the planet – but the traumatic experience caused my son to lose his mind. As he aged, he became increasingly and dangerously unstable. Insane, even. But I found ways to control my son's rage, and his godlike strength, learning to utilize him as the weapon we needed for retribution. Broly... he is the Legendary Super Saiyan of our millennium. The true ultimate warrior.”

“A – and you... to s – save your own hide...” Vegeta managed to say.

There was a pause from outside, but then Paragus answered. “He thrives off pain, but it is the only way I can control him. I would be dead now if not for these precautions – you have no idea what it's like to look in your son's eyes and know he doesn't recognize you anymore.”

Vegeta didn't know what it was like to literally experience that, but in a metaphorical sense the betrayal of trust seemed to produce much the same sensation. 

“Spa – spare me... your sob story...” he said past the blood that was now coming up from his throat. “Not... excuse to...”

He stopped when he heard movement from behind him, followed swiftly by a voice.

“Wha -... Vegeta? Vegeta! Oh my god!” Bulma cried. 

She crossed the distance between them quickly for someone limited by human speed and had been unconscious a few minutes prior. 

“There's blood...! What did they do to you?” she said. She wrapped her arms around him gently, turning his bowed body so she could look at him and cradle his torso. 

Vegeta dimly registered that despite small scuffs, Bulma otherwise looked completely unharmed. That was good. However, anywhere she was touching him, no matter how lightly, was sending daggers of agony through his muscles. Lying on the floor had been slightly less excruciating, but he barely had the strength to hiss through his teeth in pain, much less speak an entire coherent sentence. 

“It seems she's woken up already,” Paragus said from outside. 

“You!” Bulma shouted. “Whichever one of you that is, I don't care! Who the hell do you think you are? Why are you doing this?!”

“There's no point in me explaining it to _you_. It's not something you're capable of understanding, so be quiet and value what time you have left.”

“You're the one who should be valuing what time you have left! You have no idea who you're dealing with! When we get out of this...”

Paragus didn't respond. He'd had fun watching the deterioration of Vegeta's condition from the readings on the console, but something else now caught his attention. 

His wristband, which he used to monitor and control Broly, was telling him something was wrong. 

Broly was trying to force his way through the limits on the energy constraints.

Paragus frowned, double-checking the information he was receiving. Letting Broly fight was already walking a fine line, but Paragus had been confident that his son would have no reason to push the boundaries. Having them broken would surely be the destruction of everything, not just the royal family. However, the man was also confident that the restraints would hold, so he dismissed the alert for now. 

“Are you even listening to me out there? If you're trying to kill us, why not do it face-to-face like a fucking man?!” Bulma called out. 

Paragus nearly rolled his eyes. These people really thought such a tactic would work – even the blue-haired woman had picked up a Saiyan mindset, it seemed. Despite that they were his own people, Paragus had overcome the basic instincts of brutality and saved his warrior's pride for where it was due. It was strategy that had saved him and his son in the first place, not misplaced heroics. 

“You ought to me more concerned for your son right now, woman – Vegeta will die, but I won't be letting him do that until the prince dies first. We'll fish out that other little half-breed boy, too – the son of Kakarot.”

Bulma, still trapped inside the machine, felt her blood go cold.

“Trunks...” she whispered, and then she felt her rage boil over. “You stay away from my son, you hear me?! Don't you dare touch him or anyone else!”

Her voice sounded strong, but truly, Bulma was terrified. She could only sit there, helpless as she clutched her husband. 

Paragus was interrupted from saying anything further as his scouter beeped, signalling an incoming call. 

“Yes?” he answered. 

“Paragus, sir,” Turles' voice came across, “it appears we have an intruder.”

 

\---

 

Gohan knew this was the spot where he'd last felt Vegeta's energy, but it didn't make sense. There was absolutely nothing but the night sky and rocky desert in all directions, and yet there he was, standing on the exact place the full-blood Saiyan's ki had disappeared. 

What Gohan had noticed, though, was the slightly unusual sound his landing had made on the ground beneath him. 

Pursing his lips, he kicked his heel against the earth, without much in the way of options. 

To his fortuitous surprise, there was an echo, audible to his keen hearing. 

Because an undercover base wasn't the most implausible of scenarios, Gohan decided to fire a decently sized ki blast a few feet from where he stood, hoping it would unveil whatever he was standing on. 

He was rewarded with a fizzling noise, and a flicker of something metal. When he fired again, with something stronger, the noise repeated itself and the giant metal square was revealed, shining dully in the thin moonlight.

“Found you,” he thought aloud, moving back to step off of the entrance. He figured that he would just have to pry the blockade open manually, doubting the owner would just courteously let him in.

Since the space between the two panels was airtight, a few brute strikes to wedge a gap were quickly made, and Gohan widened it enough for him to fit through, landing gracefully on the steps below. 

Still unable to sense Vegeta, he began making his way down, only for both Bulma and Vegeta's energies to appear from nowhere, as well as the presences of a few strangers. But Gohan could also no longer sense his brother's energy outside, or anyone outside for that matter. The half-blood didn't bother to stop and ruminate over the change, instead musing over the fact that his own presence wouldn't likely go unnoticed; evident by the people now moving his way. 

Gohan began making his way towards Vegeta, well aware that the man's power level was disturbingly low. Bulma's seemed normal, but that didn't mean she was safe by any means. 

A number of winding hallway turns later, Gohan encountered a trio of Saiyans, both parties halting instantly. 

“Hey! Who the hell are you?” one of them demanded. 

“Oh, don't mind me – I let myself in,” Gohan said, moving at a speed the other Saiyans could barely follow as he punched one in the gut. A kick and another punch later and the other two were down and the half-blood moved on. 

He didn't have time to ponder the poor security before someone else was standing in his way, giving him pause this time. 

For a split second, he froze in place, eyes widening as he recognized his father. Despite concluding a moment after that it couldn't be Goku, the hesitation gave Gohan's opponent enough time to attack first, catching the taller man off-guard. 

The blow caused Gohan to stagger, but the surprise on his opponent's face indicated that more of a reaction had been expected. When the second punch came, Gohan was ready and caught it in his palm. 

“You really want to do this the hard way?” he said, answering his own question by taking the offensive. 

 

\---

 

Paragus waited, staring at the door in apprehension for what he knew was on its way.

Despite that the intruder had managed to find the hideout in the first place, Turles had reassured Paragus that the situation would be handled. 

Paragus hadn't had contact with Turles in several minutes, nor anyone else in the complex. Aside from his two captives, who had been mostly quiet now anyway. 

Not only that, but the readout on Paragus' wrist detailing his son's condition was broken. It showed that Broly's energy was extremely low, not much higher above a fatal level – but that was impossible. Even if he was in restraints, Broly was too strong to be killed. 

“I don't suppose if I asked, you'd open the door nicely,” came a voice suddenly from the other side of said threshold. 

Paragus stayed silent. 

The door came flying inwards from a single blow, now a twisted heap of metal. 

“Didn't think so,” said Gohan as he entered the room, his eyes immediately fixing on Paragus. 

Briefly, Gohan looked to the massive steel cylinder ahead of him, his senses confirming that Vegeta and Bulma were inside. Yet the apparent state of the former, judging by his concerning ki level, was even worse than before. The dim humming sound that echoed around the area hinted that there was more than met the eye. 

Ignoring Paragus for the time being, who was stunned in place, Gohan ran to the electronic console near the wall, certain it had something to do with the cage-like apparatus filling a large portion of the room. 

The display was alight with numbers and symbols. Gohan narrowed his eyes. Even if he had been able to read it (being both farsighted and at times forgetful, he'd left his glasses back on Earth), he didn't want to waste time having to figure out how the machine worked on his own. 

“You know how to deactivate this, don't you?” Gohan asked, turning to Paragus. The man shook his head mutely, and in an instant Gohan had him pinned to the wall with an arm barred across the man's neck. 

“I don't want to have to hurt you, but Vegeta's running out of time. Whatever this machine is, deactivate it. You obviously know something or you wouldn't be in here.”

“Get off!” Paragus demanded as he tried to break free from the hold. However, he realized with a start that the arm keeping him in place was immovable as iron, and the look in the intruder's eyes gave the same impression. 

“I won't say it again,” Gohan threatened, and after a hesitation, Paragus nodded once. 

Letting him down, Gohan allowed the man to walk over to the console, following closely behind. 

Paragus inputted a few instructions onto the touch screen, and after a pause the impenetrable wall around the circle began to descend. However, guessing that the intruder was almost certainly a Saiyan, he left the machine on, hoping to trick the stranger into catching himself in the trap. 

He wasn't expecting the debilitating punch in the stomach, causing the wind to be utterly knocked out of him as he fell to the floor. 

“Sorry,” Gohan said. He couldn't have the man doing anything behind his back, but he wasn't going to kill him. 

“Gohan! Is that you?” Bulma said when the rest of the room started coming into view.

Before she could begin to stand or relocate Vegeta, Gohan was moving in their direction, heedless of the danger. 

“Wait! Stop!” Bulma cried just as Gohan stepped within the platform's edges. 

“What? What is it?” the half-blood asked, doing as Bulma bid and coming to a complete halt. 

Bulma's breath had left her body, but as the moment ticked on with every heartbeat, Gohan stood there still, unaffected. 

“Bulma, what's wrong? Why can't I -”

“How is this possible?” Paragus said. “He can't be immune to the machine!”

Gohan looked back once, catching sight of Paragus' shocked expression before turning back to Trunks' parents, then sprinted over to where they were and gingerly lifted Vegeta from Bulma's arms. The king made an incoherent sound, but didn't otherwise seem to be lucid. 

Gohan felt something odd, like a pressure on his chest, but it was almost nonexistent and it vanished as soon as he vacated the platform, Bulma trailing behind him.

“Vegeta's energy is dangerously low. I can fly us back to the palace,” Gohan began, but Bulma spoke up.

“That man – he's one of the guys who did this to him!” she said as they crossed the room. Gohan stopped, turning to flick his eyes to her and then to Paragus. 

“Bulma,” Gohan said, “there isn't time. Vegeta needs healing, and Trunks was in combat the last time I could sense him. We need to leave.”

“... You're right. Let's go,” Bulma said, agreeing rather quickly – likely because she was worried for Trunks. 

Gohan nodded and they made their exit, leaving Paragus behind. 

 

\---

 

Many light-years away from Planet Vegeta, on a cold space station orbiting a gas giant, a deceptively small form stood and narrowed his carmine eyes. 

“Is that all, Bardock?” Frieza asked.

The Saiyan that knelt before him in the vast room gave little response except to stiffen his jaw. 

“Very well, then. Set your mission on hold and report to me if you see anything else – I trust you know the importance of a vision such as this, don't you?” Frieza reminded, and the Saiyan rose to his feet. 

“Yes, Lord Frieza,” he said, expression stern. His dark eyes bored into the alien before him, but the lizard took no notice, his back turned. 

“You're dismissed,” the PTO commander specified.

The Saiyan bowed, one arm over his chest, and then turned, walking towards the door with calculated steps. The room was dimly lit, light slanting in only from the massive window on one wall that looked out into space, but the shadows couldn't hide the small, secret grin the man wore on his face for a brief moment. 

His tail tightening around his waist, he left the room quietly. 

When the door had closed behind him, the place was quiet for a few moments.

Zarbon, having been present and aware of the conversation that had transpired minutes ago, waited for his superior to speak. Zarbon always been mistrustful of their resident Saiyan – not that Frieza was the opposite – and didn't doubt the visions, but the loyalty of the man himself.

“I can tell something is on your mind,” Frieza said at last. 

“It always is with him,” the lieutenant replied. 

“You think he's lying?”

“I think he's omitting parts of the truth, sire. Yes, his visions have always come true – but this one is different.”

“And you doubt my insight on this matter, Zarbon?”

“No, no not at all. I only meant that, to one such as myself, what Bardock says sounds... infeasible.”

“How so? You met that boy, did you not?”

“Lord Frieza,” mused Zarbon, “ _that boy_ is only half Saiyan.”

“A drop of royal blood is all it takes,” responded the tyrant as he flicked his tail, curving his mouth upwards into a grin. 

How those words were meant to be interpreted, Zarbon didn't know and wasn't curious enough to risk asking. He was about to bow himself out when Frieza spoke again.

“Speaking of 'royal,' send a message to my father and brother. Tell them I will not be joining them on Y-14 for the deliberations. I have something much more important to plan than petty haggles with them now.”

Zarbon dipped his head in recognition. 

“Right away, my lord,” he said before bowing and exiting.

Frieza, now alone, stared out into the blackness of space, his garnet eyes colder than the cosmos before him. The smile from earlier hadn't left his face. 

His hands clasped behind his back, he waited.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to first-person. Picks up right where chapter sixteen left off.

I hadn't realized I'd succumbed to sleep until I woke up, sore all over and feeling like I'd repeatedly been punched in the face. Fully coming to a moment later, I remembered that was exactly what had happened, the memories of the battle rushing back – although the part where Mom was dabbing my forehead with a cloth was new. 

“What're you doing?” I mumbled, blinking as she came into focus. 

“Trying to wipe some of the blood off. I need to be doing something right now.”

“You don't have to...” I tried, then trailed off. I generally didn't like her babying me (especially in front of other people), but decided now wasn't really the time to haggle over it. Besides, if anything, it hurt to talk more now than it was before.

“You have some very ugly bruises starting to form on your neck,” Mom said in the same train of thought.

I nodded, still tired, and took a quick survey around the room to determine how long I'd been sleeping. 

My eyes were drawn to the only dim light source in the room – Mom had gotten the tank activated. Father was fully immersed in the green fluid, healing procedures at work as his colour had returned to normal and his expression was relaxed. In his unconscious state he almost looked peaceful.

Over in another spot, I could see Gohan leaned up against the wall with his eyes closed. He was definitely awake, but not alert. Next to him, Goten was snoozing on the floor. 

“They've been taking shifts keeping an eye out for anything. Goten reported a stranger's energy on the fringes of the palace, but other than that, it's been totally dead,” Mom said. 

It didn't come as a surprise that we would be left alone. It was generally forbidden for anyone to step foot on palace grounds unless invited, no matter the strange circumstances. 

There was a sudden bolt of pain from my broken hand and I jerked my arm away from Mom, who'd been inspecting it. 

“Sorry, did I hurt you? I didn't mean to, I barely touched it.”

“It's broken. Don't touch it at all,” I said. 

“I need to take a look at it. If your body's already started healing it with the bones not set properly, the tank won't be able to fix it properly either. It's going to suck if we have to re-break them.”

I was pretty sure half the bones there were powder at this point. “It's fine, just leave it alone.”

“Stop being stubborn and let me see it, Trunks,” she demanded in her no-nonsense mother voice, so I finally acquiesced and held my hand out. 

She delicately took ahold of my wrist, being careful not to brush the injured area as she turned it a little, shifting so that she could get some more light to look at it. 

“Can you clench it into a fist?” she asked with her lips tightly pursed. 

“I can curl or uncurl my fingers a little and that's all.”

She let some air out through her teeth. “That guy really did a number on you, huh? How does your head feel?”

“My head?”

“You've got a gash on your temple here,” she pointed out, barely grazing the spot with her fingertips. “I didn't notice it until I started cleaning off blood. I might not have let you fall asleep if I'd seen it ahead of time.”

“My head feels fine. Don't think I have a concussion or anything. Did you take a look at Goten?”

“He has bumps and bruises, but his condition's much better than yours. You and your father are the worst off. All his wounds were internal, but thankfully we got him help in time. He won't be in there for much longer.”

I cast a glance in Father's direction. 

His dark eyes were open, blinking slowly at me through the glass, like he's just broken free of unconsciousness. 

“He's awake,” I said, and Mom turned to look. 

“Oh...! Sit tight,” she told me as she stood. (Like I had the strength to go anywhere.) 

Gohan shifted from his place on the wall as Mom went over to the tank's console, checking over Father's status. His eyes flickered between all of us, likely trying to assess his surroundings – he'd been unconscious when Gohan had brought him here. 

After looking at the monitor, Mom moved over to stand in front of the tank itself. 

Instead of trying to communicate with him verbally, she placed an index finger on the glass and seemed to be tracing letters, which I couldn't follow from where I was. However, Father understood her message, as he slowly raised his own hand and responded to her in the same manner with careful gestures.

A subsequent minute later, Mom returned to the console and inputted the command to drain the tank. When the liquid level became low enough, Father removed his oxygen mask and the door opened to release him. 

“How are you feeling? The readout says your vitals are completely stable,” Mom greeted him, putting a hand on his arm and offering him a towel. 

“I'm fine. How long was I inside?” he replied as he began drying his face and hair. 

“A couple hours. We found a few changes of clothes in the meantime, if you want something dry.”

Father nodded, then looked Mom up and down. “You're unhurt?”

“I'm okay. I got dragged around a little and knocked out, but I found medication to take the edge off. Trunks didn't fare out so well, I'm afraid. It would be best for him to take some time in the rejuvenation tank too – he's pretty banged up.”

I could then hear Goten waking up as he prattled on to himself groggily. “Trunks, I think your father's awake. Oh, wait, are you awake? Hold on, was I asleep too...? Ow, man, this is what I get for lying on the floor.”

Gohan stepped past his semi-conscious brother and assisted me getting to my feet, walking me over to the tank. When Father saw me in the light he narrowed his eyes, scanning over my obviously poor condition, but didn't say anything. 

Mom and Gohan helped me get into the tank and fix the mask on, stepping away to allow the door to close and then I felt the amnic liquid rising up past my ankles and calves. Adjusting to the artificially supplied oxygen was a bit strange, but my breathing fell into a rhythm after a minute of getting used to it, and soon enough the tank was full and I could feel the healing process begin as the fluid soothed my muscles. 

I couldn't see very well, so I closed my eyes and didn't fight the drowsy state the machine induced on top of my own prior exhaustion. I could hear muffled voices conversing outside, but I didn't bother trying to concentrate on them as I was drawn into comforting darkness once more. 

 

\---

 

I opened my eyes again moments before I noticed the fluid was draining, after having spent who knows how long floating in it.

As the level dropped past my waist, I pulled the oxygen mask off and moved some of my wet hair out of my face, an instant later realizing I'd done it with the hand that was broken – or had been broken, but now seemed as good as new. 

I flexed it just to make sure as the door opened and I stepped out, grateful that my strength had completely returned to my arms and legs and I was pain-free. 

“Seems like someone is doing better,” Mom said as she approached me. 

“Definitely,” I said, surprised at the clearness of my own voice. I rolled my shoulders, stretching myself out, feeling like I'd just taken the most refreshing nap in the world. In fact, I felt _better_ than I had even before getting injured – my ki had likely jumped up somewhat in response to the beating I'd gotten, although I wouldn't know by how much unless I were to fight again. 

Mom offered me a dry cloth and a change of attire, which I took appreciatively. I could hear the others talking at the other end of the room, but I ignored them for now as I towelled my hair and moved off to a darker corner to get changed. 

The clothes I'd been given were a split top and bottom, making it a lot easier to get into them as I discarded my wet ones. I changed into the new boots as well, although there wasn't any armour or gloves along with it, but that wasn't a big deal. 

Once I was done I walked back and glanced around, hoping to spot wherever my sword had went to. 

“Looking for this?” Mom asked. I turned to face her and sure enough, she held out the sheathed blade with a strap fixed to it. 

“I noticed the original strap was gone, so I found something that should work for now,” she explained. 

I slung the weapon over my shoulder, adjusting it so it rested in its familiar place. “Thanks, Mom. This should do fine. By the way, how long was I in there?”

“Only an hour or so. You'd already started healing a little bit before then, so it didn't take as long. Your father took a look around the palace while you were out... You must have fought quite a battle, judging by the broken architecture. Goten filled us in on some of it.”

Mom and I walked over to where the other three were standing, Father looking cross as usual. The two Sons stood next to each other across from him, Goten looking puzzled and Gohan somewhat concerned. 

“Trunks,” Father said as soon as he took note of me, “you're awake. You and Goten utterly destroyed most of the west section of the palace.”

“Nice to see you looking well too,” I replied. 

Father glared at me, but let the derisive comment go. “The man you fought to cause this destruction – likely named Broly – his body is missing.”

“We didn't find it either. I'm assuming he was incinerated in the blast. His energy was completely gone.” Thinking back on it, I remembered seeing his intact body fall from the sky, but I couldn't be sure. 

“We did find part of his armour though, didn't we? It's a little weird that it's _all_ we found left of the guy,” Goten mentioned.

“What are you trying to say?” I asked. “You were there. You think he's not dead?”

“I'm not saying that for sure. I just – we've been talking all of this through with Vegeta and -”

“And I think there is more to this,” Father finished. 

“I already know that much, based on the state you came back in. So what actually happened to you? I was trying to get to you when the power died, but then that man showed up and next thing I knew, I was fighting and your energy was gone. Where did you go?”

“Long story short, around the time the generators were destroyed, I was approached by a man named Paragus who has a vendetta against me for something my father did. He told me you would be targeted as well, but had your mother captive so I accompanied him to his desert hideout. Upon my arrival, he sprung a trap to incapacitate me using some type of subjugation technology. Though I assume this is where his plan fell apart, as you and Goten supposedly defeated your opponent – who the man claimed was his son, and a Super Saiyan like us – and Gohan had followed me and enabled Bulma and I to return.”

“So these two people were working together for revenge, then? But that man wasn't a Super Saiyan. He was strong, sure, and he did have hidden energy...” I wondered aloud.

“This seems too complex for them to have orchestrated it alone,” said Gohan. “They cut off the power supply, probably to incite confusion and limit our access to healing and-or planetary escape. They infiltrated the guard watch, took Bulma as insurance to their highly secretive base, and simply counted on the fact that Trunks wouldn't be strong enough to win? Did they also not consider that help might arrive, which it did?”

“He's right. Something's missing. I don't know how this fits in, but that guy called me by my dad's name a couple times while we were fighting him. Plus, all this happened after Dad left. And that guy definitely didn't go Super Saiyan, but he did seem to be drawing power from the blue stones on his armour, or something. I'm not sure,” Goten said. 

“On one hand,” Mom stepped in, “it's possible they just underestimated us. But based on all the long-term planning this would take, that doesn't seem right. You'd think they'd get a pretty good idea of how strong their targets were first. So that leaves one other option... Their plan isn't over. If you didn't find a body, it could mean he's still alive. And since that Paragus guy was also alive when we left him, it's likely they'll just try again. They must have another secret up their sleeve.”

Father closed his eyes as he thought out loud. “Paragus did say something about manipulating a percentage of Saiyans against us – those who disagree with me as their king or my family in power. If this is true, more than just ourselves are at stake. Civil war may be on the horizon.”

I frowned, thoughts whirling in my head. “But that raises another question. Are Paragus and Broly willing to have our entire race at war with itself just to get back at the royal family? Or... could there be people on the outside trying to trigger chaos, and whose interests just happen to be along the same lines? Even if Paragus killed only you and I, a giant power vacuum would be left over, and our race would be in discord.”

Although I wasn't certain of our exact numbers, there was probably less than forty thousand Saiyans in existence. But the fact that conscription was starting to kill us at a faster rate than our natural battle instincts (as well as that our population naturally struggled because of the male-female birth ratio) had many questioning our involvement with the PTO. Before, enlistment in the military was a voluntary choice, but now every Saiyan excluding royalty, certain elites, or special cases like Goku's family were drafted once they reached adulthood. We loved battle, but not being controlled – it was natural people would get restless, and mine or Father's death would the final straw. 

“Regardless, this can't be allowed to slide. Planet Sadala was decimated by internal conflict. I will not allow the same mistake to be made on this world,” Father replied, opening his eyes again.

Sadala was the birthplace of the Saiyan race before we'd relocated to Planet Vegeta. It was during my grandfather's era, and since he was then the strongest warrior, our new, current world was renamed after him. A lot of our culture was lost in the transition, and Frieza's involvement came around the same time.

“So what should be our next move?” Gohan enquired. 

“We ought to begin with the obvious. Those who shouldn't or are unwilling to get involved ought to leave the planet. Kakarot's mother should take this into consideration, as should you,” Father said to him.

Gohan was taken aback. “Me?”

“Yes, you. Not only do you lack a fighter's heart, your current presence here was only by fluke. You should go home while you can.”

The oldest half-blood made little response to the blunt words, but I felt a small pit of anger bubble in my chest. 

“I think he can make his own decisions, Father,” I grit out against my better judgement. “Because as I recall things, Gohan was the one who carried you unconscious all the way back here to save your life – _and_ Mom's.”

Father's attention was wholly on me now, thanks to the jab I'd taken at his pride. However, I didn't expect the steeliness of his retort to be so acute. 

“Tell me, Trunks, whose fault it was that your mother needed saving in the first place?” he said. “Who left her alone with a handful of traitors in a dangerous situation?”

“I... I would never do that on purpose. I didn't know,” I said softly. 

“Not only did you endanger her and give our enemies leverage by not properly ensuring her safety, you compromised your own and almost got yourself killed – even when you accepted help from Goten. Not only that, but you _weren't even able to kill your opponent._ ”

Something about his tone ground my gears. “I was doing what it took to win. I didn't have many options when I didn't know what was happening. I was trying to get to you, but then you took off and we all know how that turned out.”

“Alright, that's enough,” Mom stepped in, both verbally and physically. “No more pointing fingers at anybody. Let's just take a breather before the stress gets to you hotheads.”

In response I decided to to just that, turning and walking several feet away so I could distance myself a little. Goten followed me over, but didn't speak.

I sat down and leaned against a fixed shelf full of vials and he followed suit.

“It bugs me that he just walked all over Gohan like that, when he was the one who saved them both,” I said in a tone hushed so only Goten could hear. I hadn't really wanted to start anything, but Father being moody wasn't an excuse to be a dickhead to the guy who saved him. He'd lumped Gohan in with Gine, for crying out loud. (No offence to her, but she was no great warrior.)

“Gohan knows how to pick and choose his battles. Just let him talk to Vegeta if you can't right now,” my friend replied. 

I nodded curtly and remained silent, merely allowing myself to listen in on my parents' and Gohan's continuing conversation.

“If our prospects are really so foreboding, I could contact Piccolo, and then he could attempt to find my dad and tell him to come here...” I heard Gohan say before my father's gruffer voice answered. 

“I don't need Kakarot's help. Frankly, this conflict doesn't concern him.”

“Our families are friends, Vegeta. Bulma has known Dad since he was a kid and Goten was practically raised here with Trunks. I understand if you _feel_ adamant about handling this alone, but you can't expect us to just stand aside on something like this.”

“I doubt you'll convince your brother to go anywhere without my son, but Bulma won't be staying here. If anything, our families' history should mean you'll respect my wishes.”

Mom's voice cut over Father's at that point. “Hey, hold on. I never said I was going anywhere.” 

“You aren't staying, Bulma,” Father repeated.

“Oh, and I don't have a choice in the matter, is that it? You think I'm just gonna go along with that because you said so?”

“As if I would let you remain here when you life would constantly be in danger. I expect you to see reason here.”

“Vegeta, I'm not useless. You know that. I may not be a fighter, but you need at least one person with brains around. I'm not just going to leave you or Trunks or whoever else here – I want to help.”

“And you'd do so best away from the battlefield. You should be staying on Earth until this is all over.” He paused, then proceeded slowly. “... Our daughter is there.”

There was quiet as Mom didn't reply for a moment. Gohan remained silent too.

“So now you want to send me away to Earth, after everything we've been through,” Mom said at length. “And you're going to try getting my emotions into this by bringing her up. Well, here you have it, now I'm emotional. What about this scenario, Vegeta – what if your daughter grows up never knowing her father, because he died refusing any help he could get? _Your life matters to me too_ , and I'm damn well going to do my part in protecting you and Trunks. I'm your wife and therefore the Saiyan race is my business too.”

“Tch. If you're hell-bent on being stubborn, I'll put you on a ship myself.”

“You're hell-bent on being insufferable. For the record, I'm the one who got the healing tank on without a generator and prevented your vital organs from imploding.”

“I was trapped in the first place trying to rescue you.”

I didn't even realize I'd almost stood up until Goten put his hand on my shoulder to calm me. Whatever expression I'd been making had probably tipped him off to the fact that I'd had enough of this. I brushed his hand off and Goten just shook his head. 

“Look, maybe you should just calm down some more first before talking to him again. Waiting until you've both aren't so on edge would be a lot better, since okay you're getting up anyway and you're walking towards him, and probably about to do the thing I just said not to -” 

I'd started to tune Goten out and risen to approach Father. Gohan had retreated a little, so it now was more of a face-off between my parents, both who looked my way when I drew close enough. 

“You have something to add now?” Father stated more than questioned. 

“Yes. Leave her alone. None of this is her fault and you can't force her to leave if she doesn't want to. If you don't trust your ability to protect her, I can,” I said.

“Really. You seem to have a short memory of the last reckless decision you made for her safety, boy.”

“That's not going to happen again.”

“You're right – it won't happen again because you won't get the chance. You were barely able to protect yourself, much less anyone else. I am the king of all Saiyans and I am your father. What I say goes.”

“Do you even listen to a word other people tell you? And who are you to talk about protecting yourself when Gohan had to save you?” I said, my voice beginning to rise.

“Guys, this really isn't -” Gohan tried to interject, but Father spoke over top of him, causing the oldest half-blood to sink back submissively.

“Quiet!” Father commanded before directing his words back to me. 

“I have more experience on the battleground than you have years of life. Sometimes, you have to do what needs to be done – there is no place for second chances or for your _feelings_. I'm not going to let you endanger your mother just so you can prove yourself.”

“It has nothing to do with that! You only want to handle this alone because you can't deal with the blow to your stupid pride!”

Father's eyes flashed, but then he composed himself enough to give a cold response. 

“You think you know what pride means, but you're still just a child,” he said, turning his body away just enough to make it seem like he was dismissing me.

“... What did you just say?” I asked slowly, now invading his personal space. 

He looked up at me, not intimidated in the least. “You heard me. You're nothing but a boy who can't control his anger against his father. Your emotions are written all over your face. Now back off.”

I felt someone's hand gently touch my arm, encouraging me to not make the disagreement any bigger. 

For a moment, I wrestled with myself. Then, slowly, I let a little of my tension out and uncurled my fists, stepping back just enough to show that I was going to let things go. 

In response, Father's face became etched with contempt.

“Hmph. It's as I thought. You're too soft to even try and hit me,” he said.

I felt white hot rage flash behind my eyes and then Father was staggering.

“Trunks!” I heard Mom exclaim as I realized I'd struck my father square in the face, suddenly feeling traces of the impact on my knuckles.

For a weighted second, he didn't move. Then he turned back towards me, his expression absolutely deadly. 

“Here we go,” I heard Gohan sigh the instant before I was launched across the room from Father's punch. 

My back hit the wall but I was ready, having only been caught off guard for the initial backlash. Father was quickly in front of me, aiming once more for my face but I caught his blow mid-air with my hand. 

Surprise briefly crossed his visage before I kicked him in the chest and created a bit of space between us. 

I could hear Mom yelling at us to stop but we ignored her, now grappling arm-to-arm and both of us attempting to wrestle control over the other. We were knocking into shelves and equipment and breaking things, but I couldn't tell what due to my limited peripheral vision in the dim lighting. 

I smashed my forehead into his, taking advantage of his briefly lowered defences to pick him up and throw him into a different wall, easy enough to do with our comparative sizes. 

“Guys! Cut it out!” Goten yelled as Father got back to his feet.

Instead of charging back at me, Father merely wiped a small line of blood from where I'd split his lip with the first strike, allowing a familiar smirk to emerge as he met my gaze. 

“Seems you've gotten a little stronger since we last sparred,” he said, though his tone was definitely not complimentary. “Bring it on then, _boy._ ”

I let myself play into his goading and I darted forward, intent on wiping that fucking smirk right off his face.


	19. Chapter 19

Father was taking the fact that I was angry and using it to his advantage.

Both of us were restricting our blows to hand-to-hand combat only, still cautious enough not to release energy blasts or raise our ki on purpose, especially in an indoor space such as this. 

Nevertheless, his consistent taunting seemed an awful lot like he was trying to push those limits.

“Look at you. You couldn't keep a level head if you tried,” he said as he evaded my punch, which went harmlessly into the air behind him. For whatever reason, he was spending most of his time simply dodging. It was probably because I was furious at the moment, but it almost felt like I was stronger than he'd expected, so I suppose he was trying to let me tire myself out – physically and emotionally.

“Fuck you! You lied to me my whole life, so don't tell me I can't be angry!” I shouted, almost catching him with a backhand. 

“And I regret that decision! What do you want me to do, grovel?!”

Truthfully, I didn't know what I wanted from him. There had always been a tenuous bridge between us, and all the recent events combined had cracked it. Neither of us had tread this ground with care – any emotion I tried to communicate to him was just coming out as anger and I had little tether over it. I was frustrated because for so long, the buried resentments towards the person I attached a great amount of my self-worth to were just spilling out.

He kicked me in the leg, causing me to lose my balance just enough so that his next kick to my side sent me stumbling into another shelf. I could sense he was waiting for me to retaliate again; I was the one largely perpetuating the scuffle. 

Staying right where I was, something clicked. In the red haze of my anger, before I could stop myself I was blurting out acrimonious words, and I was too pissed off to care about the repercussions or whether I really meant what I was saying.

“I could never understand why you played along with all of it. I first thought you just didn't care about anyone – then I wondered if Frieza had just screwed up your mind to the point where being his slave was normal to you. But then I finally understood. After having him hanging over your head your whole life, you just learned to live with fear because you were too weak to do anything about it. Isn't that right?!”

I was smashed against the wall again, hitting it hard enough to crack it some more and he pinned me there with one hand. With the other, he slapped me across the face. It was demeaning and almost felt like parental scolding, but there was definitely force behind it.

“Do it again and I might actually feel it,” I mocked. He obliged, and probably would've done so on his own terms anyway. The stinging brought me back into focus a little. His grip, too, was causing my scabbard to dig into my shoulder-blade. 

From where I was, I could see Goten and Gohan maintaining a watchful distance, ready to step in should the fight have escalated any more than it did. I didn't like the diffidence and melancholy on their faces – I didn't look at Mom for fear of what I might find on hers.

I wasn't really injured at all, but I stopped fighting then. I simply stood there, waiting for Father to say something, maybe hit me some more. 

“Are you done?” he eventually growled. When I didn't answer, he released me with a shove and backed away a little. 

I was still angry, but the unbridled rage part had subsided somewhat. I didn't feel good about myself, but I didn't feel guilty. I just had a bad taste in my mouth and a bitter weight in my chest. 

“I asked you a question,” Father demanded. He was assessing my posture for any further signs of aggression, or whether I was now going to at least try to cooperate and cool off.

Frustration burned in my throat. I wasn't going to do something stupid, like cry, but I couldn't bear being in this cold room that had suddenly become stuffy. Father was giving me that same type of regard he always did when I wasn't good enough.

“I hate you,” I told him. I'd only ever said that to him one other time in my life, and I felt just as lost as I had then. 

Something in his expression shifted, but then it was gone and he turned and began walking away. 

He kept walking until he reached the door, viciously knocking down some inanimate piece of equipment on his way out. Nobody stopped him. 

 

\---

 

I'd said I needed a minute or ten alone and that was what they were giving me. I hadn't felt miserable earlier, but I did now. 

I was seated in another adjacent section of the medical ward, opposite of where Father had went. I wasn't sure he was even in the palace anymore, but it wasn't like I'd been paying attention to his whereabouts. When he wanted time alone it meant kilometres of distance instead of metres. 

My hands were resting on the hilt of my sword where it was balanced in front of me. I ran my thumb over the faint, silvery engravings etched into the centre of the crossguard. I'd originally thought it was just elaborate decoration, but on closer inspection the designs resembled the writings of some ancient language. The lettering looked very different from any written forms I understood or had ever seen. I'd never asked Father in depth about the sword's origin, but I knew he couldn't read the script – thus, it remained a mystery.

It was a calming, familiar thing to look at, even if I could barely make out such precise details in the darkness. 

I breathed out, leaning forward to rest my forehead on the blade's cool pommel. My long hair fell forward to shield my peripheral view as I stared down at the floor, then I closed my eyes.

If I were to pick something that had hit rock-bottom, it wouldn't be the political situation at hand, as grim as the future was beginning to look. It could always get worse in that respect. 

No, it was the ugliness between my father and I that I was sure was at its lowest point, as low as it had ever been in my life so far. 

_When did my relationship with him have to get so shitty?_ Things were never so difficult when it came to Mom. My mother, for whom I had an unconditional soft spot – because she loved me unconditionally. 

She only ever asked me to be the best that I could be, not in comparison with anyone else. When I would fall down, she'd tell me I tried hard and that it was okay to trip up sometimes and try again. It was okay to recognize my limitations and then build on them. Nobody was perfect.

With Father, however, I had to at least meet (or exceed) the standards he'd laid out. If I failed to reach his expectations, his disapproval was palpable. I'd always dreaded seeing his disappointed face, especially as a kid. The efforts I went through to avoid it gave literal meaning to the phrase 'blood, sweat, and tears.' But the joy I got from making him proud had been worth it. 

I'd idolized him. In my mind, he'd been the strongest person I knew, and he was my father – I loved him, of course I did. But with the reveal of the lies, Frieza's plot, my sister... When it'd struck me that everything I'd worked towards to please my father apparently meant nothing to him, a part of my identity had splintered. (I'd learned to walk years ago and yet here I was now, struggling to stand on my own two legs.)

To be fair, I wasn't exactly being a very cooperative son. Now that the immediate danger had ebbed, I was back to the maximum of five minutes in a room with Father before I was yelling at him again, because _he_ damn well wasn't going to be the emotionally open one. Not that I was expressing said emotions in any way constructive. 

Soft, murmured speech seeped through the walls to where I sat. Moments later, there was footsteps, and then the footsteps entered the room with me. 

I opened my eyes, but didn't otherwise move, still staring at the ground. Soon enough, there was a small source of light and three presences standing in front of me. 

I lifted my head and met the trio of inquisitive gazes – Mom, Goten, and Gohan, the last of which held a glowing orb in his hand again for my mother's benefit.

“I would say you've got daddy issues, but I think you're pretty aware of that,” Goten said as he raised an eyebrow. 

“I really appreciate your sensitivity on the topic,” I responded dryly, though I allowed myself a faint smile. Goten smiled back in the same manner and Mom moved closer to place a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” I began. “I got angry and I made things worse. I won't blame you if _you're_ mad at me.”

“We're not mad at you,” Mom said. I expected her to continue, but she left it at that, understanding that the subject really was sensitive, and that maybe it would be best to talk about it when Father came back. 

“I... What do we do now? Wait for him to return?” I wondered aloud, referring to Father. 

“I suppose that's our best option. We ought to have everyone here to continue discussing what we're going to do. But for the time being, we still have a number of hours until sunrise, and your mother's hardly slept all night,” Gohan said. 

Looking up at him, I could determine that he'd hardly slept either. His Saiyan blood would mean he would be better off than Mom without rest, but he needed a few hours of peace as well. 

“I was in the tank, so I'm not tired. I can take watch for a while until he comes back. The rest of you can sleep all you need, and I can wake you up if anything happens,” I said as I stood. “Consider it a further apology for all the ruckus I caused.” 

“You really don't have to convince me to get some sleep,” Goten said. Gohan rolled his eyes and the four of us made our way back to the other room, into the dim light cast by the rejuvenation pod. 

 

\---

 

It had been a few hours of total quiet. I was relaxed in an almost meditative state, eyes closed and arms and legs crossed, my sheathed sword leaning up against my shoulder. Every so often I would shift my posture to adjust my comfort. Thankfully enough, not even Goten was snoring, so I could entirely rely on my hearing and energy sensing abilities to watch over the situation. 

Father's ki had not reappeared. When he'd left, he'd shortly afterwards lowered his aura enough so that none of us could sense it and therefore follow him. Even if it was becoming a strange amount of time for him to be gone, I wouldn't put it past him – he might actually wait until the sun rose before he felt like gracing us with his presence. 

I idly wondered how Gine was doing. Perhaps when I was asleep or healing hours ago, one of the Sons had flown back over to tell her everything was alright (for now, at least). Her energy was stable, and she was a solid distance away from our location, at the very fringes of the third-class district. It was likely the safest place for her, even if she wasn't a target. 

I was just beginning to wonder what kind of state the rest of the city was in when it happened. 

Out of nowhere, but not close by, something like a mass coil of energy came into existence.

I opened my eyes and sat up straight. 

This _thing_ , whatever it was, wasn't a person. It couldn't be. It was huge, looming like volcanic ash clouds, polluting its surroundings and intertwined with a strangeness that I couldn't put my finger on. Dark and heavy – bigger than the aura of three Super Saiyans combined.

I rose to my feet, but I wasn't the only one awake anymore. Gohan was already up, his brother following suit as he roused Mom to consciousness. 

“What the... What is that thing?” Gohan muttered. It was powerful enough that he'd apparently sensed it in his sleep. 

“I don't know,” I said, looking off in the mass' direction even though I could see nothing but the wall. I fixed the strap of my sword back over my chest. 

“What is it? What's going on?” Mom asked. 

“Something's happening. Not sure. There's this titanic energy that just came out of nowhere,” I said. 

And then just like that, the mass started moving – _towards us_. 

“Whatever it is, it's headed this way. What now?” Gohan asked. 

I shook my head and turned to look back at him, only to stop when I caught sight of Goten. Despite the darkness, he looked pale, his expression frozen in what could only be described as mute horror. 

“Goten?” I prodded. “'Ten? What's wrong?”

“It can't be,” he gasped in recognition. 

All of us stared at him, awaiting an explanation. 

“It's him,” Goten finally revealed, a slight tremor in his tone. “It's Broly. He's back...!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter than usual, but also way faster update than normal. Things are going to be happening next chapter...


	20. Chapter 20

_So he really did survive. He must have been healing while we were doing the same._

“Are you sure it's him?” I called out as a faint tremble went through the ground.

If I concentrated hard enough, scrutinizing the approaching energy mass to see for myself, I could almost make out the familiarity of it, but there was no way the man I'd blasted with a full-powered Galick Gun could suddenly be this strong. Even if he'd gotten a boost of strength from his previous defeat, it was impossible that his power level would shoot up this high from that alone. 

However, Goten was like his dad in more ways than one – he was more sensitive to the nature of evil energies than most people. Therefore, I trusted his judgement on this. Especially when there really wasn't the time to stand around scratching my head to come up with a different explanation. 

“I'm completely sure,” Goten called back. “But he's way stronger than before! How are we gonna fight that?”

I didn't have an answer to that question, but before I could even try formulating a plan, Gohan voiced one of the many worries weighing on me out loud.

“I hope Vegeta is alright,” he said. He meant nothing humiliating by it, he was only referring to the obvious fact that Broly had become stronger than one of us alone could handle.

I had no clue which direction my father had gone, but unless he was in the same energy-shielding place as before, there was no way he hadn't noticed Broly. Even so, if that was the place Broly had come from and Father had also gone there, the result would be the same. I couldn't think about it for too long lest I panic.

“He'll be okay,” I said for my mother's sake.

In that line of thought, there was no way I was going to leave her alone this time. But that meant the only other option was to take her with us, putting her directly in harm's way. 

I was going over everything I could in my mind, trying to recall whatever information might help us.

We needed to buy time. _Time for Mom to get away, time for Father to recuperate, wherever he is, if he's still – still..._

I curled my hands into fists and turned to address the others.

“Goten! Last time we fought him, he was in even less control of himself when you showed up. If that means you're his priority target, you need to keep out of sight. You should take my mom and find someplace to hide. I don't think he can sense energy, so he won't be able to follow you. I can distract him,” I said. 

“Are you nuts? You can't take him on by yourself,” my friend replied. 

“We don't have time to debate about this,” I said, then added more. “I'm stronger now, I have more of a chance than last time.” 

The last sentence was mostly a lie – I was indeed stronger, but nowhere near strong enough to fight him alone. 

“I'll help you,” Gohan cut in. “Goten, please – take Bulma and hide her somewhere you know she'll be safe, and we can keep Broly's attention fixed on us. I would tell you to stay there with her, but I know that's useless, so instead come back when you're sure she's nowhere near the danger.”

Rather than argue, Goten merely nodded, closing the distance between he and my mom to pick her up. 

“Wait – hold on,” she said before he could do anything. She moved from her place to approach me. 

I thought she was going to protest our idea, but instead she reached up and put her hand on my cheek. 

“Before I go anywhere, I want you to make a promise. Promise me you'll be safe. Promise me you'll protect each other,” she said. 

_I'll try._ “I promise,” I replied, taking hold of her hand for a moment before releasing it. 

“We really don't have much time to lose. Bulma, Goten, now would be the ideal time to make your move,” Gohan reminded. 

Mom nodded and let Goten carry her this time. 

“Okay. Gohan, we can head outside and activate our Super Saiyan forms. It's still nighttime for now, so we should be pretty visible to Broly. While we do that, Goten can escape with mom to the city outskirts or even farther,” I instructed. 

I took off out of the medical wing, Gohan not far behind. When we reached one of the holes made in the ceiling previously in the night, I raised my ki in preparation to fly and he did the same.

We blasted off into the sky. Once I was a decent way up, I paused to take a look around. 

Clouds were gathering, probably in a response to the massive energy Broly was emitting. The same thing happened when any other Super Saiyan was out of control, so it was safe to assume that the approaching menace couldn't be reasoned with (not that I'd thought so from my previous experiences). 

The moons were slowly being covered by the changing weather, making things even dimmer than they already were. But there was a bright speck on the horizon moving at an incredible speed, and the light it gave off was anything but comforting. 

“That's him,” I thought out loud, and I let my energy rise and my hair turn golden. Gohan had already done so, and our combined glow would surely be enough to catch Broly's attention. 

“We should move away from the city once he sees us,” Gohan said. 

I quietly acknowledged the statement, but I became momentarily distracted as I noticed Goten – carrying Mom – exit from the palace below and fly off in the opposite direction at a lower altitude.

I watched them go before returning my focus to the oncoming enemy. There was a minute at most before we would be face-to-face. My adrenaline spiked; even in the face of odds like this, my Saiyan blood instinctively craved the fight. I wasn't anticipating it to be an equal match, but if Goten returned in time maybe the three of us would be enough to beat him.

The glowing figure and impressive energy got closer, closer, and closer...

I readied myself, saw him slowing down to assess us. 

Then he angled his route and began flying away from us.

“Huh?” Gohan ineloquently blurted. “Why is he...”

I narrowed my eyes, mind temporarily stalled in confusion until I realized what had happened. 

“Shit! He _can_ sense energy!” I shouted, immediately darting in Broly's direction.

He didn't care about us – he was going after Goten.

I cursed myself for not factoring the possibility of such a thing into our hasty plan. Goten could still hide his aura, but he wouldn't be able to fly away properly with his ki suppressed, especially when trying to navigate to safety with a passenger. If Broly already had a visual on them, it was far worse. Of course, I wasn't going to wait around for him to get close enough to Goten to attack. 

As I flew down in pursuit of our opponent, I charged up a ball of ki in one hand, throwing it at him as soon as I was close enough not to miss. 

“Hey, you!” I called out as I hurled the blast. 

The compacted energy struck Broly on the side, but it dissipated into smoke, like the strike had done absolutely nothing. Judging by the man's non-reaction, he'd barely felt it.

A bigger version of my attack went soaring past me towards the same target, courtesy of Gohan. However, it had the same level of effect on the monster in front of us – who I could now clearly see had bright golden hair, just like ours (which would suffice to explain the fathomless increase in strength). 

Abruptly, Broly turned around to face us while still moving through the air. His hands were held out before him, moments later firing two identical beams in our direction. 

Mere seconds before it would've struck me, I realized it would be dangerous to block head-on so I swerved out of the way, doing the same with the consecutive energy attacks that followed. Unfortunately, Gohan's strategy involved the opposite, and when he threw his hands up across his face to block, the force of the energy sent him flying backwards. 

The energy spheres I'd evaded went plunging down into the city below and I winced at the explosions, the brief flashes starkly visible in the night. Perhaps it had been a bad idea to avoid them after all. 

_We need to draw Broly away from the city, but also away from Goten and Mom. There are still people down there; even if those shots were manageable the situation could worsen in an instant._

“So you've recovered from your last attempt at trying to kill me, little prince,” I heard Broly begin abruptly. “But I don't see how that was a fair fight, both you and him up against me in a handicap. I woke up to return the favour!”

He stopped his movement and hovered in place, and I followed suit while maintaining a good distance and watching him carefully. Gohan was up again and a little ways behind me.

Taking a quick evaluation of our opponent, I understood that my hunch had to be correct. Those blue gems on his armour hadn't been giving him power, they'd been restraining it. The breastplate that Goten and I had found was obviously absent, but the bracers and diadem were still in place – yet the stones were now dull and nonreactive. 

“And you have the audacity to run away from me. I'm doing you a service by ending your useless lives. It's a shame that beings so pathetically weak are allowed to exist,” he continued. 

“Shut up!” I yelled. “The only people you're strong enough to kill are those who couldn't fight!”

“All you people are the same to me. Even my doting father – I killed him first since I was freed and I want more. Give me more... Give me Kakarot! I will waste the cosmos until I find him and rip him apart!”

Though half of what he said sounded like madness, the other half was clear. He wanted to kill Goku – or in this case, Goten. But Broly's clear instability, as well as his advantage over us, meant there was no way he'd stop at just my best friend. The senseless violence I'd already seen indicated that he'd brutalize anyone he laid eyes on. 

If I was walking into certain death to try and stop this, so be it.

The one consolation I had was, when Broly had noted that he'd killed Paragus 'first,' I'd reached out to try and sense my father's energy. It was very faint, but I could indeed feel it – he was still alive, but probably wounded to the point of incapacitation. It was a tiny spark of hope. 

Gohan had likely come to the same conclusion I had – that insisting Kakarot wasn't here was pointless – and the eldest half-blood suddenly darted past me to attack Broly. 

“You won't get a chance to hurt anyone else!” Gohan cried, punching our enemy square in the chest with a ki-laced fist. 

Broly hardly budged.

Gohan didn't have a minute to re-evaluate how much strength he truly needed before he was grabbed, kneed in the stomach twice and then flung aside by a return strike to the chest. The half-blood managed to catch himself in the air a ways off, but I attacked Broly in the gap left, firing an energy shot first to distract him before unleashing a volley of punches and kicks. 

He was reacting to my blows, more so than he had with Gohan's but less than the last time we'd clashed. Although, it didn't seem to matter – Broly didn't waver in the slightest, blocking or absorbing the force of my attacks like it was no big deal.

“You're a pest,” he growled at me before turning his body so that my punch went to the side; he then grabbed my arm and yanked me towards him and smashed his forehead into mine twice consecutively.

He then took advantage of my dazed state and smashed me in the chest, sending me diving into the ground. 

My landing blew a crater into the packed earth. I'd touched down just outside the city limits, but didn't have time to register anything more than that as Broly was suddenly there, flying at a speed that ensured if I didn't move he was going to pummel me into something more like a grave than a crater. 

I leaped out of place just in time to watch him drive his knee into where I'd just been, making the cracks in the ground spiral out even farther. 

Impossibly, he was in front of me then, using a speed I didn't think was possible. He threw a punch that missed me by a hair, but I wasn't able to avoid the follow-up, nor the next one after that. 

A large beam, a halfway powered Kamehameha, distracted him for a moment. 

Gohan flew in the instant his beam dissipated, dealing a vicious roundhouse kick to the back of our opponent's head. Yet once again, Broly appeared almost completely unaffected, barely moving from what should have been a blow strong enough to bring down most people. 

In the moment of Gohan's shock, our opponent grabbed the half-blood's leg and swung him to smash into the nearest rock, then Broly threw Gohan at me. 

We collided and I was knocked off my feet, going several metres back until I hit a rock pillar of my own. At least Gohan had partial cushioning from it, thanks to me. 

“Sorry,” he muttered in apology as we stood and readied ourselves. 

I pushed in front of Gohan when Broly began firing energy projectiles at us. Withdrawing my sword, which I enshrouded in my ki, I swung it in an arc to cut the attacks in half and send the unstable halves off to the sides to dispel, though the residual energy concentration still caused destruction to our surroundings. Gohan blasted away the ones I missed with equally sized spheres. 

Unfortunately, our opponent was striding closer with every blast, clearly toying with us. We were being backed into a corner. However, before he got too close, Broly suddenly lifted into the air, raising his hand above his head and summoning a swirling vortex above his palm, beginning to laugh as he did so. 

This time, he'd formed an absolutely massive ball of ki, several times the size of the ones we'd been knocking away. This one was on a far different level. 

Then he hurled it down at us.

I couldn't dodge. If I did, the blast would strike the planet. It was too big to disperse. Quickly, I sheathed my sword. 

I threw my arms up and braced myself, Gohan doing the same.

When it finally struck, I blacked out for a second or two, returning to my senses only to realize I was lying on the ground. 

“Ugh...” I sounded, crawling to my feet as fast as I could. My gaze swiped across the area, taking note of Broly's position as he descended once more and Gohan struggling to recover from the attack. 

“Gohan!” I called out, getting little response from him. When he didn't answer, I knew he was hurt worse than I was.

Spotting my coveted blade laying a short distance away, I scrambled to retrieve it and stood at the ready again. As Gohan was still trying to regain himself, Broly's gaze was fixed on me as the only thing standing against him now.

I couldn't help but note the ever-so-faint tremble of the weapon in my hands and I steeled myself to stop it. 

“What's the matter?” Broly taunted. “Are you afraid?”

I yelled out a wordless cry and charged at him, determined not to give in.

He avoided the first swipe, but I managed to nick his forearm with the second. Boosting my ki even further, I cut down in a deadly stroke right for his head.

Broly raised his hand up to shield himself. My sword sliced right into his palm as he grabbed the blade, only his pure strength preventing it from cutting deeper. 

Bringing his other hand up to clasp one flat edge of the blade, it became a battle of brute strength and wills as he fought to prevent the tip of the weapon from reaching his head, where it was mere centimetres away from. 

Small trails of blood came from his palm as I dug in with all the power I could muster, using the advantage of being slightly above him to force my weight down into the sword's intended path. 

There was slight change in his facial expression in the split second before he acted.

It was almost in slow motion. 

He gripped the blade tighter, driving it further into his flesh, then yanked his arms to the side in a quick and savage move. 

My sword snapped in half, the remaining end not connected to the hilt shattering into a thousand pieces, the steel shards glinting gold in the light of our auras. 

He'd broken something unbreakable.

I felt a long moment of absolutely nothing, and then just as the beginnings of realization and shock hit me, Broly backhanded me with a strong sweep of his arm, striking me square in the torso with brutal force. The pain didn't come until after I'd hit the ground.

The hilt had been flung out of my hands, a very absent presence as I struggled to get up once more, never taking my eyes off of my enemy. The sheath, too, had fallen off, discarded a little ways off from the physics of its trajectory. 

A burning discomfort now permeated my ribcage, but it wasn't pain I couldn't handle. 

Broly grinned at me, lifting his clenched hand up and opening it to let a few bloodstained shards fall to the ground. 

“Is that all?” he said, taking a step towards me. 

I slid one heel behind me in the sand, but relinquished no more ground than that.

“What are you going to do, little prince? Pray that someone arrives to save you? I promised to hear your screams last time we fought and I didn't get any. It will be so much more satisfying to wring them out of you if you continue to fight back,” he cackled.

He continued to stride forward, revelling in my hopeless defiance and refusal to lay down and die.

“This will not be quick,” he said. 

“Hey!” a voice interrupted moments before a Kamehameha smashed into Broly's side. “Looking for me, shithead?”

Broly was caught off-guard so he staggered, then whipped his head around to locate the familiar voice.

Goten. 

I watched my friend hurl a nearby giant boulder at Broly, the stone shattering on contact but sufficing to serve its purpose as a distraction before Goten dove in, his hair golden as he nailed Broly in the gut and sent the bigger man flying back. 

I knew the only reason Goten had been able to do that was because our opponent had been startled, but I was grateful nonetheless. 

“Are you trying to make a habit of losing so I _have_ to show up and save your sorry ass?” my friend called out to me.

“Goten!” I acknowledged in relief. In the distance beyond him, I could see that Gohan had finally managed to recover, though he had yet to start moving our way.

I held only a moment of a brightened outlook before simultaneously realizing that Goten no longer had Mom, but also that she was not the safe distance away like we had hurriedly decided on prior. He had set her down somewhere too close by in order to come help us – I could sense it. 

“Wait, what are you doing here? Mom's still in danger where you left her!” I demanded to know. 

“You were about to get crushed! I could sense this was taking a bad turn as soon as you started fighting, and I didn't have the time to take her far enough!” he replied as he met my eyes. “Don't worry. She _is_ far enough that none of the stray blasts will get close to her.”

“But Broly can sense energy! If he can recognize hers he won't hesitate to go after her because he knows she's vulnerable! If we fail to beat him, he'll find her anyway!” 

Goten's eyes widened. “Then we can't fail!” he said. “We _won't_ fail!”

A loud and manic scream of Kakarot's name boomed across the desert, accompanied by a surge of ki from Broly's location. 

The behemoth burst from the ground, energy blazing in a visible spectrum around him as he ascended into the sky. 

Roaring again, a painfully bright wreath of power swirled around him, glowing pale green and lighting up the storm clouds that gathered above him. The energy convoluted around him, then burst in something almost akin to a supernova. 

I could only stare in awe as torrents of energy exploded from his body, arcing in all directions. As each wave of energy struck the ground, the planet shook with the force. A few had struck the city and the palace, reducing sections of it to rubble. From this distance, swaths of smoke and twisted metal were all I could see, worsening the palace's already damaged condition and wrecking areas of the surrounding metropolis.

I hoped my mother or father hadn't been in the wake of any of the explosions, but I didn't have time to think about it for long as Broly's focus returned.

“ _Kakarot!_ ” he thundered before he dove at us. 

He barrelled straight towards Goten in the blink of an eye, the velocity kicking up dust and rock particles into the air. The fist meant for Goten's head smashed into the ground as my friend nimbly evaded the move in the nick of time.

Broly was swinging wild, Goten barely keeping up. To help him, I raised my arms and began firing energy at our opponent's back, which seemed to be little more than an inconvenience, but then blasts were hitting Broly from another direction as Gohan arrived and made it three on one. 

Annoyed at our persistence, Broly swiped his arm widely in our direction, releasing energy of his own that was enough to send us skidding back as he managed to snag Goten by the chest and begin bashing him into the ground. 

I recovered as quickly as I could to try and save Goten from getting pummelled. As Broly didn't have a tail that I could see to use as a weak point, I had to come up with the next best thing. 

Off in the distance, I could see something glinting in the sand, something I could use even in its damaged state. 

I flew over towards it, slowing my path by skidding my boots in the dust as I swept by and scooped up the half of my sword still left. It was only the bottom third of the blade and the handle, but it was enough. 

In the meantime while I'd been retrieving that, Gohan had tried to free Goten from Broly's focus, to no avail. However, our enemy's back was wide open to me – he was careless because of the overconfidence he had in his own strength. 

Coming up behind him, I thrust what was left of the sword into his back, up by his shoulder blade. Quantities of blood spurted out, but there wasn't enough blade left to stab him all the way through. 

Unconcerned, he disregarded Goten for a moment as Broly reached around to grab me, yanking me over his shoulder and then tossing me away like a toy. 

My momentum was once again halted by unforgiving rock, but this time my head got the worst of the collision, making my ears ring and my eyesight blur. Chunks of stone crumbled around me, but I couldn't make much sense of anything else for several seconds.

I wobbled to my feet, and as my sight started returning to normal I fixed it on the scene before me, unable to act fast enough to do anything but watch the mere seconds play out like it was much longer than that.

Broly was amassing a vortex of ki, his arms outstretched as he prepared to fire it down at Goten, who was also trying to get his bearings. 

Goten dazedly looked up at the ball of destruction that was about to head his way, the light from it reflecting like fire on him against the backdrop of the nighttime desert. His eyes widened as it was launched, and he could do nothing but stare at the onslaught that was inevitable. 

Until it wasn't, because then Gohan was there to toss his brother out of the way in the remaining second before impact. 

I felt the blast hit, but I still couldn't hear the sound until it had already gone and only smoke was left.

I could see Goten in cold shock, frozen still for a long moment as he fixed his gaze on the form of his wounded brother. From my position, I couldn't make out anything except that Gohan wasn't moving, and that he was very silent. But Goten's expression told me it was worse than mere unconsciousness. 

“G – Gohan...” he stuttered out. 

“What's the matter, Kakarot?” Broly mocked from the sky, the hilt of my sword still visibly stuck in his back. “Was I playing too rough?”

I moved as fast as I could to get closer, to protect the two siblings from whatever Broly's next attack would be. When I drew near enough, I breathed out, seeing that Gohan was still intact – 

Except he wasn't. The arm he'd used to push his brother to safety wasn't there anymore, gone from partway down his left bicep. 

Gohan's wound had already been cauterized by nature of how he'd received it, so he wasn't in danger of bleeding out, but he looked like he was in a lot of pain and fighting to stay conscious.

“You... _You'll pay for hurting my brother!_ ” Goten cried as he powered up to his max, suddenly darting past me to attack our enemy in the sky. 

I couldn't just leave to get Gohan away from here, as none of us, no matter how enraged, were enough to take on Broly by ourselves. Not only that, but we were drawing dangerously close to where Mom was – she could probably see us when we were airborne.

Making the decision, I chose to leave Gohan where he was for the time being, as Goten was getting the shit punched out of him and was the main target of Broly's wrath. I doubted our opponent would care about Gohan now that the half-blood was down for the count. I moved to prop him up against a nearby stone formation, wanting to offer some solace before I blasted off to retaliate on his behalf. 

Not a minute later and it had sunk in that our plight really was hopeless. 

Being fed up with me interfering, Broly had grabbed me by the neck – something he seemed to enjoy doing to me – before using his weight and speed to crush me into the earth before lifting me up and slamming me down again repeatedly. 

I was becoming too dazed, my arms gone limp as I no longer had the strength to try to protect myself, barely able to maintain my Super Saiyan form. If I dropped out of it, I would be turned into powder from the chasm of difference between my and Broly's strength. Goten was in no better of a condition, though Broly wanted to take his time picking my friend apart, apparently saving him for last. 

Finally, Broly let go of me, satisfied that I wouldn't get up again as I lay prone in the dirt. 

“As I thought. Even the three of you against me are worthless odds. How pitiful that you creatures carry Saiyan blood!” he said. 

Just as I thought he was going to leave me there, he placed his foot on my chest and started pushing down. 

I could barely breathe, but that wasn't the worst of it. Increasing pressure on my already damaged ribs, an audible crack was heard by us both and I screamed as white-hot pain shot through my torso. But he didn't stop – he enhanced the weight, and even as I tried to do something, _anything,_ to push him off, it was futile. 

I was being suffocated and my bones were being crushed. If this continued, a broken rib could pierce one of my lungs – or even my heart – and that would be enough to kill me within minutes. 

As I looked at Broly's sadistically twisted expression, he abruptly became distracted as a palm-sized rock hit him in the side of head and bounced off. 

It was a harmless move, but it got both our attention as he slowly turned to look at the perpetrator and I followed his gaze. 

My blood went very, very cold as I met a familiar pair of blue eyes that stared in concern at me and defiantly at Broly. 

The hulking man lifted his boot off me as he turned to make sense of my mother's presence. She stood over by Goten, who was trying to get up from his place on the ground as he began to comprehend who the new arrival was. 

“Get away from my son!” she screamed, a clear tremor in her voice. I didn't know why she was there, why she'd left her hiding place; things were already hopeless but she had a chance of surviving longer if she ran. Perhaps she didn't care at this point – my father was missing (and alive, but for who knew how long) and the three of us here were fighting a losing battle, yet I didn't doubt that Broly would destroy everything and everyone else once he was done with us anyway. 

I tried to say something, to call out to Mom to tell her to run, but all that came out was a gasp. I was taking the deepest breaths I could now that I had the freedom to, but the pain caused by each inhalation made speaking difficult. 

As Broly started walking away from me and towards Goten and Mom, I rolled onto my side and let my transformation deactivate, conserving the last scrap of my energy. I was propping myself up with one arm and winding the other around my chest as I got to my knees. 

Goten, somehow, was standing up. 

“Bulma! Get out of here!” he said. 

“How nice of you to join us,” Broly purred, drawing closer to them with each long, slow step. “Yes, I think you'll be the perfect addition to our little bout of fun. Seeing your blood will enrage Kakarot and make him stronger, yes? The little prince is losing his fun.”

I withdrew the hand that had been cradling my chest and aimed it at Broly's back, firing an energy projectile and watching it land near where my sword hilt was still wedged. 

_Don't you dare take another step towards my mother,_ I wanted to shout, but I was still getting my wind back and the most I could do was glare hatefully at our enemy, along with shooting off all-but-useless attacks. 

Broly stopped in place. 

In an instant, he was hoisting me up by the neck once more. Then, with his free hand, he reached over his shoulder and yanked my sword hilt out of his back, and in a quick movement thrust it into my chest. 

He dropped me and I fell to my knees, staring at the handle of my blade, the rest wedged in to the upper-right part of my torso, almost at my collarbone. 

I think I heard Mom scream. I wasn't sure. All I knew was the heat and pure agony radiating from where the foreign object pierced through me, rivulets of blood streaming down my side and dripping onto the crossguard, into the sand. 

My lifeblood looked almost black at night. 

“Perhaps now you'll stay put,” Broly snarled at me as he left me there, turning to finish his business with the others. 

I knelt there, holding myself from meeting the earth only through some unknown willpower, my heartbeat the sole sound in my ears as yet again, everything before me was spiralling out of my control. 

Mom ran to stand in front of the badly wounded Goten. Broly batted her aside like she was an irritant fly. Such a blow would be manageable to any of us, but to her untrained human body, the force would be enough to kill her.

She was slumped on the ground now. My heart beat harder, louder. 

_Powerless. They are dying and there's nothing you can to do save them._

Broly was hitting Goten. Goten was no longer fighting back. _Blood, rushing through my veins like liquid fire._ Lightning struck the earth some distance away.

Broly tossing Goten away, finished with him. The monster had thrown his head back, laughing. 

The thunderbolts were closer now, more frequent. They lit the stormy sky, like a crescendo of the gods that mirrored the feeling building in my centre. 

My fingers dragged ridges into the sand as I clenched them into fists. This emotion, this sensation, was familiar and yet different than I'd ever felt it. 

I slammed one fist into the ground, blasting away sand and cracking the earth beneath it. The loose particles began floating up into the air. 

I got myself up to a standing position, my eyes locking on Broly, who was looking my way.

Adrenaline was now streaking through my blood, flaring like a match against oil. Small bursts of electricity were sparking up here and there around me as I yanked the broken sword from my chest. Trails of red tracked down what remained of the blade's fuller. I tossed away the damaged weapon. 

“You...” I growled as the ground started to shake. Sand, and rocks swirled around against gravity, followed by shockwaves of energy that were crumbling the surrounding landscape into dust. 

My whole body felt like it was burning up, like this power was struggling to be contained as I tried to keep some sense of control. But it was rapidly slipping. There was a tug, a thread connected from myself to an untapped source of strength. 

I no longer cared about control – all I knew was rage. 

“ _I'll kill you!_ ” I screamed, then the noise became wordless as the tug transformed into an unstoppable force that struck me like a comet. 

I was wreathed in lightning, wreathed in pure energy, feeling nothing but fury and the burning strength of a thousand suns.


	21. Chapter 21

Clouds dispersing, I could see that the sky had just begun to lighten in the distance, but it was only a passing notice, my vision tunnelling as I had my gaze fixed on my enemy. 

The bleeding from my wound had now slowed a great deal, and even though my chest still hurt every time I inhaled, it had become far more manageable thanks to the effects of my transformation. Whatever had happened to me, the advantages were far greater than what being an ordinary Super Saiyan offered. I could feel the aura I generated and the bolts of electricity crackling within it and all around me. 

Broly had noticed it too. While there were no traces of fear on him, he definitely looked surprised, or perhaps confused, at my unexpected change. 

“Hmm? Where have you suddenly gotten energy?” he wondered out loud. 

Though even I didn't understand what had happened, there was something I knew for certain: that I was going to kill him for what he'd done, and that I had the power to achieve such a vengeance. I refused to let him hurt anyone else.

However, I couldn't take my time to finish this. Even with the surge of ki somewhat negating the severity of my injuries, I was still losing blood and would continue to do so. Being in the middle of combat wasn't going to help matters. 

I decided to strike first, testing my new speed. 

I punched him in the jaw and this time, it was enough to knock him back. When he didn't react quickly enough, I landed a few more hits before kneeing him in the sternum and I was rewarded with his pained expression. 

I'd been making sure to favour kicks or left hand punches over my right, due to the fact that my open wound was near my right shoulder. However, it didn't seem like that was going to be so great a disadvantage – Broly was moving a lot slower than before, or more truthfully, I was just moving that much faster. 

Testing even further how quickly I could move, I gave him an uppercut so he went into the air; then, I reappeared behind him and kicked him near the top of his spine. 

Broly twisted in place to get at me, missing his first punch but hitting me with the second. It didn't matter – I hardly reacted when the level of strength he was using could no longer cause me the same damage as before. 

Letting him swing wildly at me for a time as I dodged, I darted into place to grab him by the leg. 

With my grip firm, I began spinning around to build up momentum, then releasing to toss him away towards the earth, hitting it with a loud crack.

Not wasting a moment, I dove down to dropkick him in the chest, using his big size against him; he was a large target. 

I had one knee pressed into his solar plexus and my other foot against the ground, steadying me as I began striking away, hitting him in the face with my fists over and over again.

I was enjoying feeling something solid break and split underneath my knuckles. My Saiyan blood had taken over me, limiting my ability to rationalize. I wasn't thinking about where my new power had come from, only how best I could use it to satisfy my anger and desire to dominate the battlefield. 

Apparently having had enough, Broly managed to get ahold of me and flip us over, slamming me into the ground instead, though the terrain sustained much more damage than I did. 

Not letting him get another attack in, I kicked him off me with both legs, giving me enough room to get up and continue my assault. 

Every action I was taking caused the hurt permeating my chest area to seize up, but it only served to increase my desire to fight.

All this was pissing Broly off immensely, paired with the fact that he was now struggling to hurt me. I imagined that someone of his strength hadn't ever had that problem before. 

He roared again, releasing more waves of energy in response to his own madness and emotion. Pebbles and other miscellaneous pieces of landscape hovered around us, much of it destroyed from the sheer power of his aura. My own ki was not exactly being any kinder to the terrain, as I currently had little to no control over myself. In fact, the electrical charge I was generating was undoubtedly wreaking havoc on my body – I was literally beginning to burn myself up. 

I would make sure he burned with me. 

Throwing my hands out in front of me, I began to summon a ball of energy, pouring mass amounts of ki into it but compressing it into a small space. 

When Broly charged at me, I let it go, launching it off and watching it spear through his chest and out the other side. There was a flash of light and an explosion as it eventually hit something else a ways off. 

Broly stumbled momentarily, but then continued towards me despite his wound. I could see that I'd blown a hole right through his torso, but like his many other inflicted lesions, he was capable of ignoring them unless (or until the moment) they were one hundred percent fatal.

I leaped back to give myself more ground between us, taking to the air at the same time.

Keeping to my retreating path, I started to gather energy between my hands again, lightning sparking around me in mass amounts as I put even more strength into this attack than the previous one, this time having no qualms about the size as it grew and grew. Eventually, it was large enough to consume the sight of everything in front of me, but there was only one thing in that direction worth seeing and he was the target. 

Electricity winding around my arms, I hovered there in wait for just the right second. I could barely make out my opponent through the blinding light. 

I unleashed the massive beam, watching it span out in an uncontrolled arc of energy that destroyed all in its wake. It ate up the airborne dust and robbed my vision of the approaching dawn sky, going far enough to reach the mountaintops in the distance and even crumbling a section of one, the planet trembling from the force of the blast. 

When the flash cleared, I could see that Broly was still there – but he now emitted a pulsing green glow. He was decorated with streams of blood, and I could sense that his energy had become highly unstable. His heavily battered body couldn't contain his own power anymore. 

“You... You think you'll ever be enough to kill me?” he hissed. “I am the legend reborn! I am the strongest Saiyan to ever live!”

“And you'll die at the hands of a mere half-breed!” I growled in a voice I barely recognized.

With one last cry I darted forward and struck Broly in the stomach, as hard as I could. 

He began to crack, lines threading through him like he was made of glass. More green light emanated from within the fissures; I could sense the ki pressure building within.

I flew back and crossed my wrists up in front of my face to block the impending release of energy.

Then, in a giant flash, he exploded, the heat singing my forearms though I stayed in place, and for a moment everything was bathed in the neon light. 

When it receded, there was nothing left of him, only the wide expanse of the desert and the reddening sky in front of me. 

A thin, bright spark emerging on the horizon's edge caught my eye: the sun was rising.

I hovered there in the air for a bit, hearing only the cool breeze and my heartbeat beginning to slow.

And then, just like that, the link to my new power withered and I felt myself revert to my natural form, my hair losing its glow and drifting down with the pull of gravity. My muscle mass reduced slightly as well, reverting back to normal as I descended to the earth. 

As soon as I touched down I found it hard to stand, realizing how lightheaded I felt. My injuries had gone back to their previous seriousness, thanks to the now absent energy that had been flowing through me. I didn't think any of my vital organs were damaged but I'd definitely lost more blood than I'd thought. 

I felt totally empty and exhausted. My body unconsciously demanding respite, I fell to my knees, wrapping an arm around my broken ribs again. The pain had returned tenfold, protesting against all the continuous fighting I'd done in spite of it.

Even though my battered clothes were a dark colour, when I looked down I could see how stained with blood my right side was. The wound itself felt so hot it was almost numb, and it flared up every time I so much as flinched my right arm or shoulder. My instinct was to press my hand against it to lessen the flow, but I was wary of the agony doing so would incur – it already felt like there was a stick of hot iron impaled through it. The actual blade hadn't pierced all the way through me, but the cut was wide enough to be troubling.

My memories came flooding back, then. I wasn't the only one who'd been hurt.

“Come on, Trunks,” I uttered to myself. I had to get up, I _had_ to.

I staggered to my feet, making one slow step after another in the direction of the closest person I could sense: Gohan.

Because I was so far from the city, I wasn't going to bet on the unlikelihood of some random Saiyan leaving the metropolis (which was probably in chaos still from the blackout and collateral damage from Broly) and finding me out here. Scouters were not as adept at sensing energy as someone trained to do it themselves – we were all hurt and our ki signatures could be too low now to be detected via technology. Not only that, but in our injured states, waiting was a dangerous game.

If that was ruled out, I had two options: one, I could burn my wound shut, but there was a good chance I could pass out from the pain. Two, I could keep going with it open and hope I didn't lose consciousness from blood loss.

Neither looked good at the pace I was moving. 

Invoking what little energy I hadn't exhausted, I took to flight again, which did give me more in the way of speed. Yet if I exerted too much of the small pool I had left, I would run into another kind of problem.

Even when I did find the others, I wasn't big enough to carry them all at once, especially in our respective conditions. But I was more worried for Goten and Mom. Their energies were low enough that I couldn't detect them; Gohan was my only marker for an area near their location (unless he'd managed to get up and move, which I doubted). 

Eventually, I had to resume walking instead of flying. I was starting to feel cold even though the sun was coming up. Dust was starting to whip around, but through it I could see the light glinting off the distant towers of the city – the ones that were left intact, anyway.

I lost my footing on the incline I was walking on, falling down to slide through the sand. It wasn't a proper dune so much as a slope, so the harder rocks ground against my skin until I came to a stop. 

The sun was moving in and out of focus. My violet-white hair was highlighted with red, so was the sand – or perhaps that was my actual blood colouring the earth an even deeper shade than it already was. 

_Fuck it._ I was going to pass out anyway, but if I sealed the wound at least I'd lower my chances of dying while unconscious. 

Rolling over onto my back, painful enough in itself, I activated a small amount of ki in the palm of my left hand. My shirt was already beat up, but I made sure to tear away what did remain around that area. Then quickly, before I could think about it, I pressed my hand to the cut. 

There was a split second of the blackness at the edges of my vision spiking up to consume my awareness, and then I realized I'd successfully cauterized the injury, rudimentary as the solution had been. 

I wanted to get up, to get to my family. Goten, Mom, Gohan, they couldn't last on their own. I had no idea what had happened to my father, except that he'd left after I told him I hated him. The city was out of power and in bad shape; though the citizens there were probably better off than us they'd still need help. 

In one final effort as I lay there, I used what little telepathic skill I possessed to reach out.

_Father. Someone, anyone. Please, I can't save them. We're dying..._

The crimson sky above me went dark, fading along with all the rest of my senses. 

 

\---

 

A muffled voice. Someone's hand grazing my neck – checking for a pulse?

“No, no, not like this. Please,” the male voice said.

I felt a small current of energy trickle into me. The person was giving me some of theirs.

“I know you're stronger than this, Trunks. You have to wake up,” the person said. He was holding me up just a little, one arm underneath my head. Taking a brief moment to swipe my hair out of my face. 

A bit of sensation was returning to my arms and legs, courtesy of the extra energy I'd been donated. I could smell sand and blood and salt – the last one a generic scent both humans and Saiyans gave off, though it could still be used to identify individuals. This one was familiar.

Mustering my willpower, I opened my eyes to a slit. Judging by the colour of the sky, which was the first thing I saw, I hadn't been laying here unconscious for very long. 

The second thing I saw was Father. 

If I was capable of feeling anything at all during that moment, it might have been relief.

He was smudged with dirt, and there was dried blood running down all one side of his face, probably from some head injury. But his eyes, alive with emotion, betrayed any worry I might have that he'd sustained any fatal harm.

I tried to say something to him, but my body refused to respond.

“What happened? Is Broly dead? Where is your mother?” Father asked. When I didn't answer, he tried to get me to sit up more, causing me to make a quietly pained sound when he put pressure on my ribcage. 

“Shit. Look at you. Were you trying to burn yourself up?” he said.

That's what it had felt like. I was numb now.

“Trunks. I need you to stay awake for me.”

I was trying to do that, I really was. But I was fighting not to fade out again. My eyes felt heavy, so I closed them, conserving myself to just doing what Father had said and stay awake.

I felt him pull me up all the way then, intending to lift me as he snaked his arm around my torso to support my weight. Unfortunately, his grip constricted rather suddenly around my broken ribs again and I definitely made a noise at that point. 

In response, he shifted his hold up so it was right under my arms, hooking around and against my upper back and not the centre of my torso. He used his other arm to lift my legs and then he was carrying me.

I wanted to tell him that the others needed more immediate help than I did, but stringing together something coherent seemed a monumental task at the moment. I didn't even know where he was taking me. 

After a much shorter distance than I'd anticipated, I felt us stop. Then I heard a quiet mechanical sort of sound, and we were moving again except we'd apparently just crossed the threshold of a building of some sort. 

Once we were inside, a soft hum replaced the desert wind. A few moments later, Father set me down gently on the floor, leaning me up against something. Then he darted back out, leaving me there to presumably go find everyone else. 

For several minutes I just sat there, concentrating on taking deep breaths. Even if it hurt, I didn't want my lungs to collapse by inhaling too shallowly for a long period of time.

When Father returned, I managed to open my eyes again. He had Gohan with him.

Father set the other half-blood down across from me and then left again. Gohan looked to be in a similar state as I was – clinging to consciousness. However, he seemed less coherent than I did. He was softly muttering things to himself that I couldn't make out, and his eyes were closed. 

The next time Father came back, he was carrying two people: Mom and Goten. Father kept Mom in his arms, but set the two brothers together. 

When he realized the other was there, Gohan used his remaining arm to loosely grasp his younger sibling. Goten wasn't moving at all. 

I was expecting him to open his eyes at any moment, give me some quip about how we couldn't handle being five minutes without him. But he didn't. I wanted to call out to him though I knew he wasn't going to answer me. If I would've been strong enough to move, I might have dragged myself over to them both. But as it was, I could only watch the pair, the elder supporting the weight of the younger as best he could. 

“Computer! Initiate take-off,” I heard Father say. It sounded distant, though he had only gone a little ways farther into what was apparently a ship and not a building.

I hardly felt the vibrations signalling our departure. My focus was starting to dwindle again. 

While I could, I looked over at my father and mother. 

Father was cradling her upper body close, gently brushing her hair and stroking her face. I think he was talking to her, but I couldn't be sure. His lips were moving, but I couldn't hear what he was saying. The dead silence in my ears and the thunder of my heart were too loud. _She can't hear you either,_ I wanted to say, but I was numb. I don't think Father cared, in any case – he must've known the truth, as he could sense energy better than I did.

My sense of time must have been off, because when I finally managed to gather enough strength to look over again, Father was knelt next to her in silence. He was partly coiled in on himself, like a half attempt at a huddle, and his head rested in his hands. His position shielded his face from me.

My body was so, so heavy. I tried to say something, but no sound was making it past my throat. 

Gods, my chest felt like it was being crushed. It wasn't just the burning pain now, there was a deep-set ache slowly spreading through my heart and stomach. I wondered if I was dying.

I gave up trying to stay conscious. The last thing I knew was that Father had moved me somewhere else, placed me on something flat and cool against my back.


	22. Chapter 22

_It was the memory again – or now a dream._

_I'd been sparring with Father, my child self struggling uselessly against the chasm of experience that divided us. Ever since I'd known that he could become a Super Saiyan, I had wanted to do it too. It was an unspoken, future goal between us, my ascension – it was probably why he so often agreed to train with me himself at the time. In my mind, he was the strongest person in the universe, so the prospect of training with him intimidated me. Even so, he was my father, so another part of me was happy._

_While he was never careless, he'd been more irritable than usual that day, and had been yelling at me for failing to live up to his standards. Unfortunately, a lapse in Father's concentration had him strike me with more force than he intended, and I saw the instant of shock on his face when he realized it._

_It wasn't the blow itself that did me in, but the landing. Since we'd been in the air, I was sent crashing into the rocks below at a speed enough to make it hurt. And boy, did it hurt. The angle of my contact was just right to have my forearm strike the ground hard, producing a small cracking sound and a lot of pain. I cried out, but grit my jaw and tried to keep it quiet._

_Whether because he knew the extent of how hard he'd hit, or because I didn't quickly get up from where I'd fallen, Father descended from the sky right away and approached me on foot._

_I stood up on wobbly legs, holding my injured arm to my chest. My ego was battered from his earlier scolding, I was pretty sure my arm was fractured, and my heart was beating fast because yet again, I would have to force myself to pretend I was okay so that I didn't let my father down. I couldn't bear being humiliated in front of him. But right then, it was at the point of being more than my child heart could take._

_“Get away from me!” I burst out before he could take another step closer._

_“Trunks -”_

_“No!” I didn't want to hear his reply. I was going to cry, I was so frustrated with myself. I wanted to be comforted, but if I went to Mom, she would start a fight – I didn't want them to fight, so I couldn't go to her. There was nowhere I could go. But I couldn't bear facing Father's disappointment._

_“I hate you!” I shouted at him, my emotions bursting forth in an uncontrollable stream. “IhateyouIhateyouIhateyou!” I only caught a glimpse of his stunned expression before I turned heel and ran. I was quick enough to lose him as he tried to follow me._

_When I'd gotten far enough on foot, my ki lowered the whole time, I flew with my energy still as low as I could manage without falling out of the sky. I flew until the city was only a smudge on the horizon, though I had no particular distance to be away from it other than 'far.' But, recognizing the rocky pillars that covered this section of landscape, I would eventually arrive on a place to hide until I knew what to do next._

_Soon enough, I started to notice the carved-out areas of the terrain, remnants from the planet's previous owners, or more likely the owners before that. Scanning with my eyes, I finally spotted a hole that went deeply into the rock face, just big enough for me to fit._

_Though the weather scorched outside, the inside of the miniature cavern was cool, and there was just enough light from the mouth of it for me to see the interior. I had to stoop to move to the back, afterwards coiling myself into a foetal hug but still positioned so I could see the entrance._

_I'd ran away from home with no plan. I assumed somebody would come looking for me after a while, but I didn't think they'd find me. I didn't want to be found. I wanted to crawl into the dirt and not ever come out. Mom would probably miss me if I didn't come home, Gohan and Goten would be sad if they came to visit me and figured out I'd ran away. Kakarot would be sad too, he was always nice to me._

_I knew most of the planet was wilderness, that there weren't any other people out there to find me for a long ways. Even if someone else did find me and try to keep me, Father would show up and take me home. I would definitely never be anyone else's son, even if I was totally useless with a broken arm now. I was too young to use the regeneration tanks for healing, so I suspected I'd be stuck with the fracture forever._

_I stayed huddled in my corner and waited, the pain in my arm finally beginning to lessen as I fell asleep after what seemed like hours._

 

\---

 

_When I woke up, the sky had changed. It looked like it was getting close to sunset, a much deeper hue of red than usual._

_I realized I was cold, dirty, and my arm was still in pain. Since I'd been asleep, my ki had returned to its normal, detectable level. Yet I was still alone; no one had come to find me._

_I didn't know what to do. I was hungry, thirsty, and tired out from my escapade, so I would have trouble if I tried to fly back. I wasn't very good a sensing energy, especially since I was exhausted, which meant I was as good as lost. Father had always told me the desert was even more unsafe after dark, even for grown-ups like him. I was only half his height._

_Handling myself against a lizard or two was something I could do, but what if one of the deep underground beasts decided to come up and eat me? Where could I find water? I could digest raw meat just fine, but there was no way I was good enough to catch anything by myself._

_I was lonely, and now starting to get scared. Since there was no one around to see, I let the tears out that I'd been fighting ever since I'd fled._

_I was interrupted shortly after that by the sound of the earth being disturbed outside._

_Shuffling my knees more closely to my chest, I held my breath to keep quiet and trained my eyes on the cave's small opening._

_A shadow crossed over it and then a familiar face was looking in._

_“Father!” I exclaimed._

_“Reckless child,” Father said. He then reached up to the scouter he was wearing and spoke to whoever was on the other line. “Confirmed, I found him. Tell them to call off the search... Yes, I know. Stay put, I'm bringing him back.”_

_After closing the link, he returned his attention back to me._

_“That was your mother. We've been looking for you for hours,” he said._

_Up until a few minutes ago, my ki had been lowered, so that would explain why he hadn't been able to find me. After getting close, he might've heard me crying, giving away my exact spot._

_“Come on. Let's go home,” he said._

_I shifted in place, but made no other move to respond._

_“I cannot force you to come out, boy. The cave entry is too small for me,” he continued. “You have to climb out on your own.”_

_“I – I can't,” I replied softly. “I don't want to.”_

_He took a long pause. “I see,” he then said slowly._

_A moment later, Father moved from the entrance and disappeared out of sight._

_“Wait! D – don't leave!” I called out._

_“I'm not going anywhere,” came his voice from around the hollow's mouth along with a shuffling noise. “I'm just making myself comfortable. It's only rocks and dust out here – I can't imagine your cave is much better.”_

_“It's kind of cold in here,” I said._

_“Have you been in there this whole time?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“... Your arm. Is it broken?”_

_“Um – I think so,” I sniffled. “I'm sorry...”_

_“Sorry?”_

_“I – if I was b – better, I wouldn't have broken it,” I said, trying not to cry again. “Please don't se – send me or Mom away. She can help me f – fix my arm and I promise I'll behave from n – now on, I really promise.”_

_I was wiping my eyes at that point with the back of one hand, unable to contain the tears. “I didn't mean t – to say th – that I h – hate you, please don't b – be mad at me, Father...”_

_There was a sound as he shifted outside, once more coming into view as he looked into the cave at me._

_“I'm not angry with you, and I'm not sending you or your mother anywhere. Broken bones do heal, but it's best that we make sure it's set. It's nearly sundown – you're probably filthy from spending so long in that hole. Come here, son,” he said, and extended his hand down into the cave._

_Unfurling my stiff legs, I crawled over the rocks until I reached him, taking ahold of his arm and he pulled me out carefully._

_“Hmph, I was right about the dirt,” he said once I was free. He attempted to dust off my unruly hair as I blinked in adjustment to the red rays of the sunset._

_I must have looked pathetic with my dirt-and-tear-smudged face, because he didn't ask me to fly back alongside him. He picked me up and was airborne before I could even protest._

_“I want to see Mom,” I said to him a minute later, noting the russet tint of his hair at this time of day. I always thought it made him fit the planet more than Mom or I did._

_He grunted acknowledgement and we flew the rest of the way in silence._

 

\---

 

I came to with the feeling of my torso on fire. 

I would've sat up, but I knew that it would hurt even more, so I made peace with cracking my eyes open a bit to stare at a grey ceiling until the pain died down somewhat. 

It was several minutes of that before I understood that it wasn't going to stop hurting, and that I was going to go out of my mind unless I got up and moved. 

I tested myself by gingerly trying to roll onto my side. I'd went slowly, but the pain intensified, enough for me to suck in a breath and realize that my chest and shoulder were bandaged, and so were my forearms. I didn't remember any of my injuries being treated.

Had Father and I taken a sparring match too far? The last I remembered fighting him was after we talked about sending Mom to Earth.

All at once, the sound of another person's breathing in the room, why my chest hurt and a vague idea of what had happened crashed in on me like a flood. 

With some effort I turned myself all the way over and looked at the sole other occupant of the room.

It was Gohan, sound asleep on the only other bed, with a measured rise and fall of his chest. From this angle I couldn't see more than a cut or two, but I knew that what remained of his left arm had probably been wrapped up. 

If I listened under his breathing, I could hear a soft hum that meant we were still on the ship. Everything was quiet otherwise; even my advanced Saiyan hearing could pinpoint nothing, or no one, else. At least, no one else who was moving around. 

I held my breath and pushed myself to a sitting position, slowly. The blanket that had been covering me slid down and I used one hand to remove it completely, immediately noticing the cold air. I was wearing the same pants as before, but my top was gone, presumably to make it easier for the collection of bandages covering two-thirds of what a shirt did anyway. 

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, pausing when my vertigo increased. When I accepted that the dizziness wasn't going to completely go away, I rose to my feet, keeping one hand on the bed for support until I thought I was okay to walk. However, just to be safe, I moved closer to the wall in case I needed to catch myself. 

I could see that Gohan probably wasn't going to stir anytime soon, so I left the room to explore the ship. From what I'd seen so far, the layout wasn't the same as the last one I'd been on. 

The further I walked (wobbled, more correctly), the more I confirmed that this was a different kind of vessel than before. I had no idea which way led to what, so going on a gut feeling, I wandered for a short time until I realized I was approaching the control room.

As soon as I walked inside the spacious area, momentarily distracted by the long window looking out into the stars, I turned my focus to the person standing in front of said view.

It was Father. 

He sported a few bruises, as well as as some minor cuts but they were faded in comparison to the scars he already had on his arms. He only had medical tape on one place near his temple and he stood like he ordinarily did, without symptoms of pain. He was in far better shape than I was.

He'd fully turned to face me after hearing the automatic door open, but made no movement other than that.

I moved in past the entryway but kept the wall at my side to support me. The door slid shut once I was out of the way. 

Father stayed where he was, but now had his vision trained on me – I wasn't in the best shape, so he was probably keeping a close watch in case I should collapse out of nowhere. Not the most unlikely of scenarios. 

“You should still be resting,” he said. I could take nothing from his tone of voice, nor his expression – he was so _calm_ , but not in a way that was reassuring. His natural demeanour was assertive and candid; he seemed off at the moment. But I set that concern aside; my head felt like somebody had smashed it with a battering ram and too much thinking was making it worse.

“What day is it?” I blurted stupidly. My mouth felt like it was full of cotton balls so the words seemed to come out slow, like I was having to think about moving my jaw muscles before actually using them. So much for being articulate.

“Less than a day since we left the planet,” he answered me sedately.

I furrowed my face in confusion.

“Planet Vegeta?” Another stupid enquiry of mine. He took it in stride though, remaining silent and blinking at me with his dark eyes. I understood his non-reaction was a yes to the obvious question.

“Where is everybody else?” I said. _I can't sense them._

I could feel only Father and Gohan, despite the latter's aura being quite weak. Were my mother and best friend in such bad condition that their energy was undetectable? _He... Father brought them on board, right? I remember that._

I was wobbling a lot more now, struggling to stay standing. But I wanted something, anything to help me get a grasp on what happened. 

I remembered... What did I remember? Nighttime, fighting. Flashes of light. Pain. I stopped at that point.

“Trunks...” Father cautioned. He took a few steps towards me. 

“S – stay where you are,” I demanded, holding one hand out as if I could physically stop him.

He stopped, but didn't seem like he was going to explain anything at the moment.

I retracted my hand and brought it to my forehead. “I... Everything hurts. I c – can't remember...”

My head felt so muddy, and it was likely showing on my face, Father watching me closely. Looking at him properly, as my vision was starting to spin and I needed a focus point, his eyes were ringed with darkness from lack of sleep and his expression was eerily devoid of any emotion whatsoever. Even if he was ordinarily reserved, it wasn't like this at all. He didn't look normal.

Who was I kidding? I was about to collapse on the floor, my head and chest hurting so bad I could barely see. As if I looked any more normal than he did.

He caught me before I hit the ground, thankfully enough because smashing my head against the floor was probably the last thing I needed. 

Instead of chastising me for forcing myself to move around in my state, he started to manoeuvre me like he was going to sit me down somewhere. A sudden lurching in my stomach warned me that I needed a moment. 

“Stop,” I sputtered out. He obeyed and I pulled away from him to vomit on the floor.

There wasn't much and it was mostly water, reminding me that I hadn't eaten in a long while. Not that I had an appetite. 

After I stopped dry-heaving he set me aside, leaving to get a cloth. When he returned, he had a rag in one hand and a glass of actual water in the other, and he handed me the latter while he wiped up the small mess and exited again to dispose of the towel.

The water was quite cold, but uncomfortable as it felt when I was already chilled, I appreciated it as I hadn't realized I was thirsty. I downed it and placed it on the floor to the side, staying seated where I was in the middle of the room. I felt slightly better than before, but still nowhere close to normal.

When Father came back he knelt down in front of me. 

“You can't remember what happened?” he asked me. 

“Sort of. I... I'm not sure.” I ran a hand through my hair. “We're alive, so that means Broly was defeated, right?”

“There were no signs of his body anywhere, nor his energy, at the time I found you.”

“What happened to you? After you left?”

“After a time, I returned to the desert hideout where your mother had been held captive. I found Paragus, but it wasn't long before Broly awoke in the rejuvenation tank nearby. I couldn't fight him – he killed Paragus and then collapsed the entire base on top of us and I was knocked out. When I awoke, I was buried underground. I dug my way out and went to retrieve any ship that was left intact before I came to find you,” he said. 

“I see...” I said softly.

“Do you recall absolutely nothing about how Broly was killed?” he asked, returning to the previous topic.

I instinctively placing a hand on the upper right side of my chest, over the bandages. “... I think I did it.”

“How?” 

“I don't know. He was hurting us and then I remember...” _An inexplicable pull. Lightning. Heat._ “I – I'm still kind of foggy. But... there was energy. Yet it was like a whole other level from before. It barely felt like it was me. I was trying to protect - ...” 

I broke off, looking up from the floor to meet Father's gaze. I knew the answer to the question on the tip of my tongue was there.

His eyes were so void of life, his expression so utterly empty. Not angry, not sad, not lonely. 

Nothing. 

I would rather anything – I'd rather him be screaming back at me in rage – than to see that face for one more second.

“Father,” I said very quietly, “where are Goten and my mother?”

He wasn't meeting my eyes anymore. Instead, he got up, as if he was going to leave. I stood as fast as I could manage, grabbing ahold of his arm both to keep my balance and prevent him from walking away. 

“Answer me, Father,” I demanded. “They – they were alive. I was protecting them. Then you found us and brought us onto the ship.”

“Trunks,” he said. 

“Tell me. Please. I need to see them and make sure they're okay.”

“You can't.” 

I refused to let go of him, imploring for an explanation. 

“Are you going to make me say it?” he uttered, a hint of an emotion crossing his features. “They're dead, Trunks.”

I felt my heart beat once. Twice. Three times. 

“That can't be,” I said. I grabbed both his shoulders, then repeated the words with emphasis.

“Please... I...” I stammered. 

My hands eventually dropped back to my sides. Father remained where he was in silence. 

I remembered Mom getting swatted aside by my enemy, like she was made of paper. _You know I love you, right? Promise me you'll be safe, promise me you'll protect each other._

I remembered Goten trying to fight back even though he knew he wasn't strong enough alone. _Maybe we're not related by blood, but to me, we're brothers. I've got your back as long as you've got mine._

I raised my hands to waist level, staring at my palms.

“Why...?” I said. “How could this happen? How could _I let_ this happen? I... I won and it still means nothing.”

“That isn't true. You saved your own life and Gohan's, and consequentially, the rest of the planet,” Father said.

“What is that worth when _they_ had to be the ones to die? I was too late. _Mom is dead..._ ” 

What did my life matter against the weight of theirs? I had failed – and Goten died too because of it. 

My mother. My best friend. I let them die and watched it happen. 

“If – if I had just been stronger... b – before... then...” I trailed off. No matter what power I'd gained, the cost had been something invaluable. And I wasn't the only one who suffered loss for my mistakes.

A drop landed on my arm and my vision blurred. I didn't have anything left in me to care when I realized I was crying in front of Father.

Any other words I would have said became trapped, blocked out due to sobbing. My throat was raw and my chest ached like there was still a blade stuck inside it.

I fell to my knees and put my head in my hands. I heard Father shift and then a pair of arms wrapped around me. 

I wept into his shoulder, unable to fully return the embrace. One of his hands rested on the back of my head, trying to comfort me where he could. I didn't remember the last time he'd hugged me, if it had ever happened.

There was nothing left, nowhere else for us to turn to but the threadbare bond between us.

Even after my sobbing was reduced to quiet tears, I was shaking uncontrollably. He didn't let go of me until I pulled away, utterly numbed at that point. 

 

\---

 

Father had helped me remove the bandages around my ribcage, wanting to take off the temporary measure as I'd be better off without it (though it was more painful, it was better for me not to have my breathing restricted). Since I wasn't having any dangerous side effects, all that could be done was begin to let my broken bones heal on their own and keep my movements there to a minimal. Unfortunately, we had no painkillers aboard, so I had no choice but to suffer through it. 

My other bindings were taken off too. My arms had been burned but were already starting to heal, courtesy of my Saiyan blood. The worst burn was on my chest, where I'd sealed the wound myself, and a mass of emerging scar tissue and blistered skin was left there. The minor scarring as a result of broken ribs would fade, Father had said, but the chest injury would probably leave a permanent mark.

Leaving the treated places to air out, I eventually fell into a light sleep in my and Gohan's room, waking again when I heard him stir a few feet away from me. 

I was on my back, like him, so I only had to turn my head a little to look, my hair falling in my face until I mustered myself enough to sit up instead. 

Gohan's expression went through various stages of confusion as he pulled himself up too, awkwardly adapting to doing so with only one arm. 

“Trunks...? Where... Where am I? Where are we?” he asked, looking around foggily. His attention hovered over his injury for a moment.

“On a ship,” I said as I carefully moved to sit on the edge of my cot. 

“We're in space? How long have we been here?” His focus returned to me, stopping on the damage spanning over my upper chest.

“A while. I'm not sure exactly. Do you remember what happened?”

“Most of it. I blacked out after I attempted to contact Piccolo, but I remember the battle before -” He touched what remained of his left arm. “Before this happened, and some of what occurred after. I was hoping Piccolo could reach my dad for help, or senzu beans, but...”

Maybe that was why Gohan had been talking to himself – or rather, thinking the words out loud that he was sending telepathically. 

“Trunks, you... Are you alright?” he said, changing topic. “Did something happen to your mom? Is she okay? Now that I think of it, I... I can't sense her, or Goten. I was holding him before I passed out – where is he?” 

“You'll have to ask my father that,” I answered him softly. Gohan froze. 

“What are you trying to say?” he asked in a tone that indicated he knew perfectly well what I was leading up to. “Trunks?”

I didn't reply, and I heard him shift some more. 

“No, you can't mean – no... not Goten. Oh please, no – please tell me my little brother is okay,” he said.

"I'm sorry, Gohan," I said, my voice so low and soft I almost couldn't hear myself.

Gohan was quiet. After a moment, he spoke again.

"... And your mom? Is she - ... Are the three of us all that's left?" 

The gaping silence in the room was enough of an answer. 

Gohan fell back so he was lying down on the bed again, draping his arm over his eyes to shield them.

"I'm so sorry Trunks,” he said, and then he broke. 

 

\---

 

After he spoke to Father and recovered some composure, Gohan postulated that he try to contact Piccolo once more, who could in turn find Goku. Our ship's course had already been plotted towards Earth, but as the planet was some distance away it would take us too much time to reach there and we lacked supplies. If we landed the ship on the closest planet or moon, Goku could use Instant Transmission to take us straight to Earth – having us moving was too risky for him to target (if he overshot or undershot the distance, he could wind up in space). 

Even with my restricted telepathy experience, both Father and myself could listen in on Gohan's link with Piccolo, with the former's admittance. He was the one who had suggested it, and could impart our thoughts along if there was something we needed to contribute. Since Goku could read minds, once the Namekian found him it would form a long, complex chain that we could use to communicate. We could figure out what to do next as a group. 

As we stood in the control room, Gohan assured us that it would be easier for Piccolo to hear him now, since both the physical distance and the mental clarity was different than the last time he'd tried. Gohan looked exhausted still, but was determined to act. Father and I let him take the lead – the eldest half-blood seemed to be holding up better than we were. 

We sat down in a triangle of sorts, Gohan closing his eyes to presumably better his concentration. I followed suit. 

After several long moments, I began to wonder if I was doing it right. I could hear nothing but my own breathing. 

But then, a voice that was not my own echoed in my thoughts, clear as day. Gohan's voice.

**_Piccolo. Can you hear me?_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays everyone! I hope you enjoyed the chapter (which was literally as far from happy as you could get, haha). The last three chapters following this one will probably wind up lengthier in comparison to the usual, though I might have one more out before the new year.


	23. Chapter 23

**_I can hear you, Gohan. What's going on? I sensed you trying to contact me yesterday, but I couldn't make heads or tails of it. I tried to reach you twice after that but you didn't answer._ **

The voice that had replied was the gruff timbre I recognized as Piccolo's, though it contained a hint of worry, noticeable even when the words were sent telepathically.

**_I'm sorry, I did try to contact you but I lost consciousness right after that. I've only been awake for a short time,_** Gohan answered.

**_'Lost consciousness?'_** Piccolo interrupted. **_For that long? What happened?_**

**_There's a lot to explain. I'm with Trunks and Vegeta right now – we need you to find my dad and get him to bring us to Earth. We're on a ship and we can land it on the closest celestial body in order for him to use Instant Transmission to get to us,_** Gohan said.

**_You're returning to Earth without your brother? And if Trunks and Vegeta are with you, shouldn't Bulma be as well? I doubt those two would leave her behind,_** Piccolo asked.

Gohan paused before responding. 

**_Vegeta and Trunks are both linked to this conversation – they can hear you. We... We didn't leave Bulma and Goten behind, but they're... no longer with us. Please, Piccolo, I need you to find Dad. I can explain the details after that._ **

**_Gohan, you aren't making any sense. If you didn't leave them behind, how -_ **

Piccolo cut himself off. Then, before Gohan could say anything else, the Namekian replied. 

**_Hang tight. I'll try to find your father as quickly as I can._ **

**_Alright. We'll change course to somewhere Dad can get to us easily. I'll let you know when we arrive – it might be easier to explain everything to Dad in person,_** Gohan said.

After a few seconds of silence, I understood that Piccolo had severed his connection and was doing as he'd said. I opened my eyes to meet those of Gohan, then I looked over at Father. 

Oddly enough – or perhaps not, considering the situation – he wasn't making any complaints about having to request help from Goku, or Piccolo. In fact, Father had said nothing at all for a while, and overall his speech had been limited from the time we'd gotten aboard our current vessel. Even as Gohan had spoken, Father had made no effort to give his opinion.

When Saiyans did decide to take a partner for life, it was a heavily conscious choice, and there was always a strong bond behind it. This, made more evident by Father's sombre silence, was how I knew he wasn't coping well with Mom's loss at all (or Goten's either, in all likelihood). I believed the responsibility for her death was mine, and I also didn't expect Father to forget that. 

He had made bad choices as well, like confronting Broly and Paragus alone. Presumably, Father had also ignored the opportunity to destroy Broly while he was vulnerable – it didn't take Father having to spell it out for me to decipher that. He'd known that our opponent wasn't dead and was stronger than two could handle, and he'd left us anyway. I had been given the task of protecting everyone when, as proved, that burden was too much for someone like me. 

Gohan was older and wiser, but he lacked strength; the same went for Mom. Goten, he was always like the other half of me – in reality, though I was considered an adult among my people, I was as much a juvenile as he was. I was even less than a person now with him gone. 

During my reverie, Gohan had started talking, prompting me to listen as well as I could.

“What we ought to do is begin redirecting our course towards a nearby planet now. By the time Piccolo gets ahold of my dad, we'll have already gotten ourselves in place to be taken home, since we don't have many available options,” Gohan said. 

I gave a slight nod as my agreement as Gohan began adding more. I was numbly paying attention until he said something that caught my interest in particular.

“... Once on Earth, we can see about finding the old radar so we can gather the Dragon Balls. I'm certain that even if the device is broken, Dr. Briefs can help us repair it, although it may take longer to do that without Bulma.”

“Dragon Balls?” I interjected. 

“Yeah, the Dragon Balls,” Gohan explained – or at least tried to. Repeating the unfamiliar name wasn't making me understand it any better. 

At my continuing blank look, realization dawned over Gohan's expression as his gaze moved back and forth between Father and I. My father seemed to come to a conclusion about what Gohan was referring to, but I still didn't get it. 

“What are Dragon Balls?” I said to clarify that I was in the dark about these things, whatever they were. 

“You... Nobody ever told you about them?” Gohan said, baffled. 

“No,” I replied. 

“I'm sorry, I didn't realize – we can use them to bring back Goten and Bulma. I would have told you right away, but I didn't consider that you might not know about it.”

“Bring them back?” I felt my heart skip a beat. 

“Yes. To summarize it quickly, there are a small percentage of Namekians capable of creating 'magical' spheres known as Dragon Balls. Centuries ago, a Namekian crash-landed on Planet Earth and created a set of these spheres, seven in total. After you gather them all, it can summon a dragon that grants any one wish you ask of it. Did Goten never mention this at all?”

I was stupefied. The story was too ridiculous, too perfect to be true, but Gohan's expression was entirely serious as he looked at me. 

“Of course,” he continued, “it's not a perfect system. There are rules, like the necessary time that has to elapse between wishes, how many times you can bring someone back to life -”

“Is that true?” I interrupted, leaning forward to place my palms on the floor. “Can the dead really be brought back to life?”

“Yes. But as I said, there are certain limits. If I narrow those down to what's important for resurrecting someone... A person can be brought back only one time, and not if they died from natural causes. Not just that, but they can't have been dead for more than one Earth year, and there also has to be a year in between each use of the Dragon Balls. Those things aren't a great concern to us, but there's still...” 

Gohan had trailed off, taking note that I was lost in my own head at the realization of what he'd just told me. 

As completely broken down as I was, the resurgence of the small feeling of hope almost seemed unreal. I was still within the state of grief and confusion, but I was also ready to grasp onto whatever I could to stabilize myself. 

Father had said it mattered that I'd saved myself from destruction. Physically, yes, I was still alive – but without two of the people I loved most, and the burden of their deaths on my shoulders, the core of my being was broken. _I can't live in a universe without them._

But now there was a chance to return what I, what _we,_ had lost.

“Trunks,” Gohan said to get my attention again, “we _can_ bring them back, and we will. But having them revived won't erase what happened. Their deaths can't be erased from our minds, nor from theirs. We're all going to need time to work through it. But there is one other consideration as well. If we ask Shenron to resurrect those killed by Broly, it won't just include Bulma and Goten, but also Paragus. Logically, that means he'll be the only one to reappear back on Planet Vegeta. Without Broly, I don't know how much he can do, but it's still best to keep it in mind.”

I nodded in understanding. We would deal with that when the time came. 

 

\---

 

It had taken us another day or so (in which there had, of course, been enough time to sleep and eat where needed) to arrive at the nearest planetary body with anything resembling an oxygen content. We wanted Goku to bring the ship back with us, which would be easiest done if he stood outside of it when the Instant Transmission happened. All he really had to do was touch it, but setting it down somewhere else while inside might, as Gohan had said, be difficult to do by ki estimation alone. 

It was a planet without intelligent life, and without much life at all. Though we could breathe the air, the world had been classified as 'inhospitable,' or in other words, on its way out. Another few centuries and not even the paltry brown vegetation growing here and there would survive. The planet's name was some arbitrary set of numbers and letters that I didn't bother to remember. 

I'd gone outside for a breather while we waited, taking care not to wander too far – not that I could've gone anywhere fast. The air was thin, cold, and there was nothing but steel-grey dirt hills as far as I could see (though I wasn't sure it was actually dirt, as the granules were almost pebble sized). The gravity was heavier than back home, which I ordinarily wouldn't notice except for the way it pressed down on my internal fractures, even seated as I was. 

The sky above was equally as colourless as the earth below it. It cast everything in ugly tinges, not at all the deep shades of red I was used to. Even the wastelands of Planet Vegeta seemed more lifelike in comparison. The brittleness of the brown leaf I picked apart as I sat on the ground punctuated the observation.

I knew that it wouldn't be long before I was going to be seeing something drastically different. After all this time, I'd be seeing Earth for real instead of in vague memories. If the circumstances had been different, I probably would've been happy, or even excited. Instead, I was apprehensive – about what, I wasn't sure.

It was at that moment my thoughts were interrupted by something bright orange with blue and black boots appearing out of nowhere, right in front of me. 

“Trunks!” the thing said just as I looked up and realized it was Goku, looking down at me with wide eyes.

He was clad in a loose fitting, bright orange tunic, and equally roomy pants of an identical colour. He also wore wristbands the same hue of his strapped shoes; around the top of these boots his trousers gathered in. His belt, too, was the same colour, and a small brown pouch was tucked into it. Judging by his clothes as a whole, he'd been training. I couldn't remember if I'd ever seen this outfit on him before. 

I stood up as quickly as I dared, taking a quick glance behind me at the ship (which was only a metre or two back) where the others were. I was sure they'd sense his energy and head this way within moments. 

“You're here,” I said to him. 

“Sorry if I startled you. Your energy feels different. Piccolo said that Gohan said I should come right now – where is Gohan?” he asked.

“Dad!” the half-blood in question called out as he approached, with Father in tow. 

“Vegeta, Gohan! Piccolo said you guys were in trouble, what happened?” Goku asked. Then, his expression becoming even more baffled when the two stopped in front of him.

“Your arm! It – it's gone! Are you okay?” he exclaimed, moving up to Gohan and gently taking him by the shoulders and inspect him for further damage. 

“I'm fine,” Gohan replied, but I couldn't tell whether his tone held any sarcasm or not. “Definitely not the worst off out of everybody.”

“Oh! I brought senzu beans, one for each of you,” Goku said. He then detached the small pouch I'd previously noticed from his belt, untying the small string around it and then emptied the contents into his palm.

There were five little beans, a greenish-grey colour. They looked totally benign. 

“Trunks, if you eat one of these, it'll heal you completely. You're hurt, yeah? I could tell by the way you stood up,” Goku said, holding one out to me. I took one and so did Gohan, but Father didn't. 

I rolled the bean around in my palm, inspecting it briefly before finally putting it in my mouth. It didn't taste like anything really.

“You brought too many,” Father said abruptly. 

“You don't have to take one if you don't need it,” Goku replied. 

“That isn't what I meant. There are only three of us,” Father said. 

I had just begun to wonder why Goku didn't just read our minds for the answers he wanted when I found myself so overflowing with energy it was like it had physically smacked me in the face. The sudden absence of pain was extraordinary, on top of the fact that I could feel the bodily strength of my base form was much greater than it had ever been before. I think I actually made a noise of surprise out loud – I hadn't expected these senzu beans to work so well. 

“I was going to pick you guys up and then go back to Planet Vegeta to get Goten... and Bulma too, I guess,” Goku said, looking between each of us. “Why would you leave them there?”

“Dad, we didn't. It...” Gohan attempted to answer his father's question, but I interjected with a solution that would be easier on Gohan's heart. 

“Goku – read my memories,” I offered. On cue, everyone turned to look at me. 

“I know you said you could go deeper into someone's mind with your abilities, if you wanted to. I'm giving you permission. It's easier this way,” I explained. I'd not only been present the entire night, but I hadn't lost consciousness until sunrise. Goku could get a grasp on nearly every event of the conflict, starting with the blackout, by using the method I'd just volunteered. 

“Okay,” Goku said hesitantly, after a pause to mull it over. “Are you sure?”

I nodded. Satisfied with my permission, Goku moved so he was standing close enough to reach me with his arm. Then, he put his hand gently on my head, closing his eyes to concentrate.

Contrary to what I'd expected, I didn't feel anything. I didn't see any flashbacks either, nothing was induced as a result of Goku's technique. It was a little uncomfortable to think about, that he could literally see whatever he wanted to in my head, but he wasn't the type to be invasive like that. (Or so I was at least eighty percent sure.)

I watched his expression change from pensive to melancholy as he sorted through my memories. Seeing that look on his face was gut-wrenching: it was so familiar, but not from seeing it on him. 

When Goku finally withdrew his hand and opened his eyes, he was a mixture of sadness and anger. He clenched his fists by his sides, looking at the ground for a moment. 

“I should've been there,” he said, and then nothing else until Gohan spoke up. 

“We have the Dragon Balls,” the half-blood reminded. 

Goku looked up to meet his son's eyes. “That's right. After I take you guys home, I can go make sure Bulma and Goten don't get too far.”

Gohan nodded like he understood this as Goku continued. 

“But listen. I may not be the brightest tool in the shed,” he elaborated, and we ignored his error in favour of more important things, “but I do know this – if we don't have Bulma's radar, it's gonna take us a lot more time to find the Dragon Balls. Years longer, or maybe never. It's been awhile since we needed them, so we'll have to ask Dr. Briefs to fix the radar and you two could help.” He gestured to Gohan and I as he said this.

“I don't see how I'd be useful trying to fix this 'radar.' I may have mom's genes, but I'm nowhere near the level of technician she is. And I've never even seen a Dragon Ball,” I said.

“Your mom built the radar when she was about Goten's age. Even if it's broken, I'm positive you three together could make your brains at least equal the level of one Bulma,” Goku assured. 

“As long as we have some remainder of the device, it's a start,” Gohan agreed. “Dr. Briefs may not be as young as he once was – no offence intended – but he's still sharp as ever. It might take us a little longer than if Bulma did it herself, but I'm confident we can repair the radar.”

“Alright then. We can settle the rest when we get to Earth, I suppose,” I said. 

Goku nodded and then began walking towards our vessel, placing his hand on it once he reached it and then beckoning the rest of us over. 

As we all put our hands on his shoulders, Goku raised his free arm to touch his fingers to his forehead. 

“Oh. Just a heads up,” he warned, “I think it's raining at Capsule Corp.”

“Wh -” was all I managed to get out before Goku's ki flared and we were gone. There was a moment where my vision was nothing but a blur, and then everything began to right itself as I then felt ground underneath my feet again. 

The first thing I noticed was that I was far more lightweight than normal. I hadn't realized the change in gravity would be so dramatic. 

The second thing I became aware of was how fresh the air smelled – probably because, as Goku had mentioned, it was indeed raining, but the downpour was icy and heavy and it came as a shock on my bare arms.

It was colder than the planet we'd just left, and it was nighttime here on Earth. We were in some sort of pavilion – just large enough to fit our spacecraft – surrounded by long building structures, like a sort of complex. I assumed this was part of Capsule Corporation.

“You almost landed that thing on top of me!” I heard Piccolo yell, referring to our ship as he came around the other side of it. 

“Oh! Sorry about that, Piccolo, I didn't know their spaceship was gonna be so big,” Goku apologized. 

I took a few steps away from Goku, looking around and being slightly disappointed that the rain and time of day were preventing me from taking everything in. There were lights situated around the area, but all they served to do was create a glare in the weather. I was halted from inspecting my surroundings (Earth, after all this time!) even further when Goku gestured for me to come back. 

“Everyone's somewhere else in the building. I'll teleport us inside before we get too drenched,” Goku said, so I returned my hand to its place on his shoulder. Piccolo joined us and then the view around us became indistinct, changing once more. 

We were indoors and there were two pairs of eyes gawking at us, both sitting at a table in the large room.

I instantly recognized the faces – they were my grandparents, who stood up as soon as the long moment of absorbing our appearance ended. 

“Trunks? Is that you?” my grandmother said, and then the room became much more noisy as they began filling the air with questions. 

“My goodness, can it really be? Look at you! Oh honey, are you alright? Goku told us something happened, we were waiting for you,” Grandma said. She had no qualms about touching my hair and placing her hands on my cheeks, like she'd known me all my life (and didn't care that I was slightly wet from the rain). But since she was my grandmother, it didn't feel invasive of my personal space.

I could see some resemblance between her and Mom's faces. Grandma had short and blonde curls, and her eyes were a faded blue, less vivid than Mom's. She looked older than Mom as well, but not as old as Dr. Briefs. 

The man in question was in front of me too, smiling at me from behind some frame-shaped object, like a pair of squares over his eyes. His hair had the same tint as mine, but slightly more bluish and streaked with so much grey that the original colour was only visible close up. 

“I'm so happy to meet you in person again, after so long,” he said, kindly brown eyes crinkling. While Grandma moved to greet Father and the others, Grandpa then took the opportunity to hold his hand out towards me. 

I blinked at the extended arm. I would've thought he was asking for something, except his palm was facing to the side instead of skyward. I felt awkward that I didn't know what he meant by it.

“It's a handshake, m'boy,” he tried to explain to me. “It's something we do here to say hello. My apologies, I didn't realize you might not understand. Hold out your hand, like this.”

I copied his position slowly, sure that I was probably blushing a little from embarrassment. However, I was reassured as Dr. Briefs grasped my hand and merely moved it up and down a few times before letting go. I was sure to keep my grip gentle. 

Then, after giving me a hug, he turned to address everyone else. Grandma and Piccolo were concerned over Gohan's arm after noticing it was missing, but he assured them it didn't hurt. The Namekian didn't seem to believe him. 

“Now then,” Dr. Briefs began, “why don't you start from the beginning. I see that Bulma isn't with you -”

The man was cut off as someone else burst into the room.

“WHERE THE HELL ARE MY BOYS?!” a woman screeched from the doorway. 

In her panic, it took me a moment to place Chi-Chi. Her dark hair was tied up in a bun, and two chin-length pieces framed her face on the sides, as did a pair of earrings. She wore some unusual garb that I didn't remember the name of, but recognized from a picture of her I'd seen before. 

“Wait, Mrs. Son!” a familiar male voice came from the hallway outside, though I couldn't place it and was soon distracted by Chi-Chi darting into the room towards her eldest child.

“Gohan! Are you okay?” she exclaimed. “Where's your brother? What happened? How did -” She stopped mid-ramble, gaping at the place where Gohan's left arm should be. 

Chi-Chi tottered in place for a second and then, abruptly and unceremoniously, she passed out. 

Goku caught her just as her knees had begun to buckle, scooping her up like he'd been expecting the reaction when the owner of the voice I'd heard moments ago came into the room, along with someone else.

The first figure, not the one who'd called out earlier, wasn't someone I knew; he was a taller man with slightly wavy black hair that went to his shoulders, and a face with a few large scars on it. The second figure, though wearing Earth clothes, was familiar – diminutive build, short and black spiked hair, coal eyes and a face very much like Father's, and a brown tail whisking behind him in anxiousness. 

“Uncle!” I exclaimed in surprise.

“Ah – we didn't know exactly when or where you were arriving, we were told just minutes ago,” the first man explained, straightening himself when he saw the fuss had died down for the time being. 

“We were already here, and Mrs. Son is a fast runner,” my uncle added, speaking in the Earth language and suddenly looking embarrassed at his entrance. “Videl is on her way to Capsule Corp, though it shouldn't take her that much longer.”

On hearing this statement, Gohan suggested that we wait until his partner arrived to explain what had happened. 

After a time of nervous chatter and someone preparing tea to those that wanted it, Videl eventually arrived, looking dishevelled from her journey – which from the looks of it she had done at least partially on foot, as water dripped from her jacket as she removed her hood. 

She was short and lean framed, with tousled black hair that was cut to her chin in layers. Her eyes were a deep indigo and she had pretty features – however, said delicate features were currently twisted into an emotion that could only be described as pure rage. 

“Videl!” Gohan exclaimed, his eyes widening at her presence.

“What the hell is going on? Are you okay? It sounded like it was an emergency!” Videl said, striding over to Gohan and not caring whom she bumped past. She completely ignored any strangers in the room like Father or myself and was focused only on Gohan.

“I knew I had a bad feeling in my gut about you staying longer! Where's your brother, is he – oh my god...” she said, trailing off once she noticed his missing arm.

“It's alright, it doesn't hurt – Dad gave me a senzu bean,” Gohan reassured. 

“How is you missing an arm 'alright?' Oh god, oh my god, what happened? Who did this to you?”

“There's a lot to explain,” Gohan answered her, and then we began outlining what had happened the last night we were on Planet Vegeta. 

 

\---

 

I had learned that night that, depending on the nature of what medication I was given, I wasn't necessarily less susceptible to its effects. For some, I would have an equal or lesser resistance – in this case, it was a solvent meant to help me sleep, administered by Dr. Briefs. 

Because we'd arrived in the night, and had spent even more hours discussing what had happened and what to do next, it'd drawn out quite late on the clock. Most everyone except Gohan and Father and I were exhausted, so Dr. Briefs had offered rooms to those who wanted to stay or had nowhere else to spend the night. In the end, Goku had taken Chi-Chi and himself home. The only other person who'd left was the man whose name I'd learned was Yamcha (he'd seemed a little awkward around me and especially Father). My uncle had already been staying at Capsule Corp, so Father, myself, and Gohan and Videl were given rooms in the expansive building complex.

I'd taken my grandfather's offer of the sleeping medication to help fix my circadian rhythm. But the unfamiliar surroundings, along with the situation at hand, kept me waking up periodically throughout the remainder of the night. I'd been drowsy and the bed wasn't uncomfortable, but the lingering thoughts in my head wouldn't let me rest peacefully. When I did sleep, I was bordering nightmares. I could hear the rain distantly drumming on the roof the whole night. 

When I woke up the next day, I wasn't sure what time it was. The rays of sun shining through the window slats confused me for a moment until I remembered that I wasn't at home anymore. 

I sat up, looking around the room that I hadn't bothered to pay attention to the night before. 

It was plain, the walls an off-white and the furniture minimalist, yet the design still markedly different than back home. There was a mirror by a closet on one wall, and across from it was a portrait of green landscape and mountains. The remaining wall held a large window with the covering drawn over it. On a nightstand next to my bed, there was an electronic device with the numbers ten and thirty-three. I assumed that was the time, but I couldn't remember the Earth system enough to make sense of the digits.

I hadn't bothered to change the night before, but as I got up I noticed a set of folded clothes on the corner of my bed. _Someone must've come in here during a period where I actually got some sleep._

I got up and moved over to the window, fiddling with the contraption until I figured out how to change the angle of the slats so I could see through them. When I did, more light came through, illuminating a good view of the complex outside. 

There were different types of vegetation planted here and there amongst the buildings, marks of condensation from last night's rain still left over, but the most notable thing of all was the pure blue sky. However, despite the clear weather, I could feel the cold radiating through the glass so I stepped away, deciding to get a better look by actually going outside at some point. 

I might have considered showering first, but there was no restroom attached to the sleeping quarters I was in, and I didn't feel like wandering around to tour Capsule Corp just yet. 

Moving back to the bed, I picked up the clothes and unfolded them to take a look. I was grateful that someone had taken the time to leave them there for me – the only drawback being that I wasn't one hundred percent sure how they were worn. I assumed with a little inspection, it wouldn't be too hard to figure out.

Shrugging, I pulled off my shirt to change when a mark on my skin caught my eye. Remembering the wound I'd sustained, I wondered how much the senzu bean had healed so I moved over to the mirror to get a better look. 

The area in question, though not as bad as it would've been otherwise, was a noticeably pale blotch about the size of my sword from edge to edge, but distorted instead of narrow strip. Because some of the scar tissue had already formed by the time I was given a senzu bean, thanks to my natural healing speed I was left with a still visible mark. Of course, it could've been a lot worse – I'd been expecting to live with a giant burn there for the rest of my life. Instead, I was left with a blade-shaped cicatrice, though a deformed one more or less.

Giving a quick look over the rest of my torso, there wasn't even minor scarring left from my broken ribs or burned arms; they looked completely normal. Almost like the entire battle that had caused so much destruction had never happened – but of course, the mark on my upper chest and my memories were proof enough that it had been more than just a surreal nightmare. 

I looked up to meet my own gaze in the mirror, wondering if I looked how I felt. 

Cold blue eyes peered out from a face that looked set in stone. It took me a moment to place myself in this face because I'd never imagined or seen myself look so utterly grave. But in an instant, the expression was gone, softening along with my mood. 

Though still sombre, I could now make out traces of Mom's likeness in myself. Nonetheless, there was precious little of her looking back at me, as it had worn away with each year that I got older. Especially with the austere moods I was prone to with the late turn of events, it was Father's face I saw, despite me having all the wrong colouring. His features were also a little more angular than mine, but the difference was only subtle enough for someone who knew me well to notice.

I shook my head and turned away from the reflection. My hair was a mess and I needed to get dressed. 

Turning back to the apparel laid out on the bed, I finished changing out of what I was already wearing and donned the smallclothes I'd been given, then examined what was left. 

There was a top and a bottom; that part was clear enough. I picked up the pants, made of a thick blue material, to determine which way they were meant to be worn. 

Both sides had pockets, but one side was split down partially and had fasteners. Judging by the shape, and since humans didn't have tails, the gap probably wasn't meant to go on the back. The design would make for easier access as far as bathroom needs, but the metal teeth of the fastener definitely wouldn't be kind to anything in my lower area, if I was extremely careless for some reason. 

Once I'd actually gotten the trousers on, they seemed to fit okay (although I wasn't accustomed to the feel and shape of the material). There were loops for a belt, which I utilized with the one provided, as the trousers didn't cinch enough around the waistline to prevent them falling past my hipbones without it. Figuring out how the belt worked was easy. 

Turning to analyze the shirt, it was also self explanatory – the logo went on the front. The picture on the navy top was a simple pair of Cs interlocking with each other. Again, the material was a bit different than I was used to, as was the looser fit of the long sleeves. Though I supposed anything would feel different in comparison to what I usually wore back home, Saiyan clothes that were idealized for freedom of movement and tightly hugged the wearer's contours. 

I then slipped on the pair of boots, tightened the straps to adjust them. There was nothing I could find in the room to tie my hair with, so I left it as it was. 

As I mussed my hair, trying to make it look at least like I hadn't walked through a windstorm, a strange noise from somewhere else in the building caught my notice. 

It was a little girl's laughter.

There was nothing in the timbre of the voice that indicated gender, it was too young sounding to tell – something instinctive told me whom the laughter _had_ to belong to. 

The laughter continued, spotted with words that I couldn't quite make out yet.

I decided to follow the sound. 

Turning towards the door, I paused at it briefly to remember that it wasn't an electronic one. You had to turn the handle to swing it open. 

I grabbed said handle, but as soon as I did a brief metallic whining sounded from beneath my grip. I let go in surprise. 

The lever was mangled completely out of shape. 

I frowned at it. I hadn't grabbed it with much strength at all, and yet there it was, lopsided and crumpled. I supposed it could've looked worse – last night the door had already been open when I'd come in and I'd just pushed it shut. At least I wasn't a total fuck-up my first day on the planet; I hadn't accidentally torn the thing off its hinges.

I took ahold of it again, softer this time. When it didn't bend under my touch, I turned it carefully and pulled the door open with equal gentleness and lack of speed. 

As I entered the hallway and looked around, I shut the door behind me softly. It looked like there were a couple more rooms up here, but I couldn't sense anyone's energies in this area. Everyone else had probably woken up much earlier.

I had a rough memory of the layout, so I chose the direction that would lead me to the stairs. On the level below me, I could sense the slightly unfamiliar energies of my grandparents, Tarble, and another one smaller than my uncle's but bigger than Grandma's and Dr. Briefs'. Father wasn't anywhere close by; Gohan and Videl were somewhere else on Capsule Corp property not that far off. But my primary interest was in the new energy, which logically belonged to the little girl I could still hear talking. 

I felt my heart beat a little bit faster as I started down the stairs, anxious for what, or _whom,_ I knew I would see once I reached the bottom.


	24. Chapter 24

I met the eyes of my grandmother, the first person I saw as I entered the room. 

The area, which appeared to be a small kitchen, was attached to two other rooms without doors; the first was directly across and looked like a dining room, and the second was to the side so I couldn't see into it from my current position. The latter was where the little girl's voice had been coming from. 

“Oh, good morning, you're awake!” Grandma gushed, beaming at me. “Do the clothes fit you alright? They're just what I had around here, I haven't had the chance to buy you your own yet.”

“Good morning,” I said to both her and my grandfather, glad that their expressions meant I hadn't put my clothes on inside out or backwards by mistake. “The clothes fit well. Thanks for leaving them for me.”

“You were fast asleep when I came in. Did you sleep okay?” she asked. I merely nodded in reply, not wanting to worry or bother her with concerns. The room had been comfortable, the mental restlessness was a separate issue of my own. 

Before anything else could be said, Grandma suddenly put a hand to her lips in realization. 

“Oh! Trunks, I think there's someone you've been waiting to meet, isn't there? Go on ahead into the living room, I'll quit my bothering for now,” she said in a hushed voice, beckoning me off to where I could sense my uncle's energy, as well as the new little one. 

“Is that you?” I heard Tarble call to me, not bothering to use the Earth language. “Come on in.”

I began walking over, my heart beating a little harder than normal. 

“Bulla, there's someone here to see you,” Tarble murmured as I got closer.

“Really? Who is it?” the same young-sounding voice from before replied. She wasn't speaking in the Earth tongue either. 

“It's someone you've been asking to see for a long time,” my uncle answered. 

I rounded the corner, eyes flicking briefly around the room until they landed just off-centre, where Tarble was kneeling by a very small, blue-haired child. 

The child, my sister, turned to face me and her eyes widened. 

She looked older than she had in the pictures, more lanky, but still seemed smaller in person than I'd expected. She was wearing trousers made of the same material as mine, except hers had straps that extended up and over her shoulders to hold the garment in place. She had a pink, long-sleeved shirt underneath and a band holding her bright azure hair up in a short ponytail. 

Her eyes were round and the most vivid china blue I'd ever seen, pairing with her very fair skin. She looked closer to a doll than a real person. 

As I took a few cautious steps into the room, she seemed to take a moment to make sense of things before leaving my uncle's side and moving over towards me. 

I knelt down, sitting on my heels as she approached. She stopped a couple feet away from me. 

“Nice to meet you,” I said to her, my voice sounding much softer than normal. I had no idea what to say, or what I was supposed to do at all really. 

“Hello,” she answered. I could tell she was studying my face. 

“Bulla, do you know who this is?” Tarble asked from behind her. She looked back at him once, then back to me.

“I'm not sure,” she replied. Then, closing the distance between us, she moved up as close as she could get by climbing onto my legs, using my sleeves as leverage to pull herself up. She obviously wasn't shy or picky about personal space, or about throwing her weight around (as much as someone so young could even qualify for that).

She then stared at me in the eyes intensely and her brows scrunched, like I was a complex puzzle she needed to solve. 

“Are you here 'cause of my wish?” she asked me abruptly. 

“Huh?”

“On my fifth birthday, I wished on the candles for my other family to come find me. I waited a real long time but nobody came, so I thought they got lost in space on their way to my house. But you look an awful lot like how my brother is supposed to look,” she explained. 

_So she's five?_ I remembered Mom's letter stating that Bulla was younger, but it could be that the letter had been old, or maybe I'd miscalculated how long a year was on Earth. Either way, Bulla seemed to have come up with her own explanation on my absence until now. I was glad that she didn't think I _hadn't_ wanted to see her. 

“Heh. That's because I am your brother,” I said to her, breaking out into the first thing resembling a smile since I'd left home. 

“ _Really?_ ” she blurted, blinking her wide eyes at me.

“Really,” I replied before she suddenly started squealing in excitement and grabbing me into a hug. 

“Trunks, you're Trunks! I remembered your name! Pick me up, I wanna show Apa!” she demanded. I stood up and took her with me, not entirely sure how to hold a child (and not sure who 'Apa' was either), but she seemed comfortable with one of my arms underneath to support her as she hung onto my shoulder. She was heavier than her petite appearance suggested – evidence of the high bone mass that came with Saiyan blood. 

She waved a hand as she turned to look over at Tarble, who was grinning back at her with affection clear in his face. 

“Apa, Apa look! It's my brother! It's my Trunks, he's here! I told you my wish was gonna come true!” Bulla gushed.

“That it did, Bulla,” Tarble laughed. Bulla beamed back at him then returned her attention to me, grabbing a lock of my hair with her free hand as she began pouring out a long stream of questions and observances. I noticed that she seemed to speak mostly the Standard, with the occasional Saiyan or Earth language word thrown in.

“How long did it take you to get here? I wish Ama was here to see you! You have pretty purple hair! How old are you? You're taller than Apa! And you have more muscles. Have you been here before? Can I show you around?”

Amidst the bombardment of questions, I agreed to let her show me around, though my uncle suggested that I eat something first. When I walked back into the kitchen, my grandmother offered to have whatever food I wanted prepared. Since I was a little unfamiliar with Earth food, I told her I'd accept anything, appreciative that she was willing to make it herself instead of getting a servant (or whatever equivalent Earth had of such a job) to do it.

Since we had a bit of time before the food would be ready, Bulla begged to show me her bedroom here. I wanted to talk to Tarble, ask him a few questions, but decided to save it for another time as Bulla – who had asked to be let down – grabbed my hand and proceeded to tug me around the unfamiliar Capsule Corp. 

I assumed that if my uncle was 'Apa' to her, then Gure must've been 'Ama.' Though endearing to hear, it did bring me to realize one thing – she had been raised primarily by my uncle and aunt (and my grandparents to a lesser degree) and it was they whom she regarded as parental figures. She did seem to have a concept of 'other family,' but I wasn't sure if she knew who her biological parents were. She hadn't asked about anyone else arriving with me. 

That brought up another thought. _What if she does ask?_ What would I possibly tell her? Father was here on the planet with me, but he hadn't even bothered himself to hang around so far, and Mom – _Mom..._

“Trunks, are you okay?” Bulla asked, breaking me from my thoughts. 

I nodded. “I'm fine. Is this your room here?” I asked, changing the subject. We were stopped in front of a door, though I wasn't sure if we'd halted because I'd lost focus or because this was where she'd been leading me.

She gave a confident 'yes' and then opened the way into the living space, eager to show me around. 

I was assaulted by the sheer amount of colour in the dormitory. The walls were pale blue, the bedsheets pink, and the furniture a bright white, amidst all the motley tings of paraphernalia everywhere – mostly toys from the looks of it. The coverings drawn away from the windows illuminated it all with clarity. 

“Do you like it? It's more colourful than my room at Apa's house,” she explained.

“It's nice,” I replied. “It's definitely more colourful than _my_ room back home, too.”

“Really? Where do you live?” she asked, turning back to me from her trot around the room. 

“It's called Planet Vegeta.”

“Planet Be-ji-ta? Where's that?” she asked, trying to sound out the name which was clearly unfamiliar to her. _So, I guess she doesn't know Father's name, then._ I took a brief moment to wonder where the hell he'd went off to, but decided to wait until later to find an answer. 

She strode over to her bed, and in a few ungainly movements had pulled herself up on it and bounced up and down a few times before sitting. She looked at me expectantly as I looked around the room once more before walking to sit on the very edge of the bed. 

“It's pretty far from here. That's why it took me so long to come see you,” I told her. It was a partially true statement.

“That's okay, I forgive you. Now that you're here, you and me and Apa and everyone can have lots of fun,” she said, then scrambled back off the bed to get to a nearby box on the floor. She rustled through it until, seemingly satisfied, she procured a clunky book from it and came back to the bed. Sparing her the effort, I picked her up and sat her next to me with the book in her hands. 

“Can you please read me a story until Grandma says lunch is ready? Apa reads to me sometimes but he's not as good at it as I am,” she said, fiddling with the cover and kicking her legs against the mattress. 

“You're that good of a reader, huh? You must be pretty smart,” I said, taking the book when she offered it to me.

“Uh-huh. I even know what four times three is. But I like it better when other people read to me.” She moved and sat on my left leg, leaning on my arm and placing her palms on the back of my hands, me holding the book open in our laps as I picked up where she wanted me to start. 

Her hands were small, delicate, and childlike, with Mom's fair white skin lacking either scars or freckles. Comparably, mine looked very different, almost the exact opposite: gold-tanned and dextrous from years of training, as well as adult and masculine shaped. It was hard to believe that this little girl was my flesh and blood when we appeared so little alike, making more evident the contrast between our lives prior to meeting.

But she seemed happy. Content, for the most part. Despite what I'd gone through, it made me feel better to know that Bulla was free and far from any destruction her heritage would've otherwise brought her.

Even if she was still very young, she was half Saiyan, like me. That meant the same intrinsic strength existed in her as well. 

I decided then that she should never have to be in the place where she needed it. This life of hers – I would protect it.

 

\---

 

“So this is the radar,” I said, eyes grazing over the object my grandfather had set on the table in front of Gohan and I. “How does it work?”

The device was just small enough to fit in one hand, circular, and with a currently unlit green display on one side. The backing and sides were chrome-coloured, and a single button protruded from the top. As a whole it was intact, though scratched up, and admittedly looked like it'd seen better days.

“Well, the Dragon Balls emit a type of electromagnetic pulse, forming a small frequency or disturbance which the radar can distinguish. Bulma ordinarily would keep the device tuned up, but evidently that hasn't been done in some time,” Gohan explained. 

He had went home with Videl in the morning and then returned after lunch in ordinary clothes, but donned an additional heavy jacket which helped disguise his missing arm (as well as protected him from the clear, icy weather outside, of course). He also now wore the same type of frames my grandfather had, though there was a slight colour and shape difference between the two pairs. Despite a few vague ideas, I didn't want to ask what exactly they were for, in case the answer turned out to be embarrassingly obvious.

“I'm assuming this pulse is harmless,” I said. 

“That's right,” Dr. Briefs said as Gohan picked up the radar and turning it over in his hand. “I don't think Bulma was the first person to come up with the concept of the radar, but she did make her own design without help.”

“I guess we should open it up and take a look – you just have to remove the backing, but I think it might be easier for someone with two hands...” Gohan said, giving a soft laugh at the end. 

He gave me the device, and after I fiddled with it momentarily the backing popped off, revealing the circuits and wires underneath. In the centre of it was a small, rectangular piece of metalwork that everything attached to. 

I'd helped Mom with ship repairs before, but this technology looked older and more complex than anything I was familiar with. However, it didn't look impossible to figure out with a little time and effort. In fact, it could probably be redone in a mimicry of what most spacecraft used in their tracking systems, tailored for these pulses the Dragon Balls were said to emit.

We disassembled the radar piece by piece, going over what needed to be immediately replaced so that we could even get the device activated. The battery was lithium-sulphur, much to Gohan's fascination, and only needed to be recharged. However, half of the actual technology the battery powered was shot. 

“Okay, so... it looks like this is a phase shifter that Mom custom made, but I think it's damaged. So is the encoder here, but I don't know what the fu – I mean, what this little thing is here,” I said, gesturing to each part in sequence. Some of the components were so small my eyes could barely focus on them.

“That's a voltage regulator for the battery. We ought to replace it, just in case,” Dr. Briefs said. 

“A voltage regulator won't be hard to come by. Actually, most of these repairs look very doable, though we might have some trouble with the few parts Bulma custom designed. But I'm confident we can work it out,” Gohan said to me.

After spending a bit more time going over what we needed to replace, and what needed to be done by hand, we decided to call it quits for the day. My brain felt exhausted from having to try and navigate Mom's handiwork, but I knew it would be worth it in the end.

As Gohan was preparing to leave, I stopped him, wanting to ask him something before Bulla dragged me off somewhere. 

“Gohan, can I talk to you for a minute? I wanted to ask you a favour,” I requested. 

“Of course.” He wore the same open expression Goten often did, and even though their faces weren't the same, it came as a sharp reminder. 

“Could you... show me where your mom lives? I want to – to talk to her, about Goten, but I only have your dad's energy as a guess for where she is,” I said. 

“Actually, Videl and I were planning on going to see Mom in an hour or so. You can come with us, if you'd like, but I have to stop at home to pick up Videl. Any roads up the mountains aren't usually accessible this time of year, so it's easiest to fly,” he said. 

“Alright,” I replied. I normally flew to get places anyway, though I had been warned to avoid getting reckless about it here on Earth. Apparently, most humans couldn't fly on their own. 

“Make sure you dress warm though, Trunks. It's snowy up there. Oh, and... I wanted to ask you something as well,” Gohan said. 

My stomach made a sort of flutter at the mention of snow. As much as I was already disliking the cold weather, I had never seen the frozen rainfall before. But I set the feeling aside to let Gohan ask his question.

“Whenever you feel up for it,” he began, hesitating, then deciding, “I was wondering if you would show me what you did to... defeat Broly.”

I felt myself grow tense at the mention of the battle. Memories tugged at the edge of my mind, but I forced them away. The thought of recreating those same emotions – the moment I'd snapped into that inferno – was not appealing. 

Gohan's face revealed that he'd noticed my discomfort, but before he could say anything, I slowly nodded, giving him my answer. 

“Are you sure that's okay? I know it's probably not something you want to bring up so soon -” he began, but I cut him off. 

“It's fine, I'm not made of glass,” I said, a little harsher than I intended. Instantly feeling a little guilty, I continued in a softer tone. “Our fathers are probably curious about it as well. To be honest, _I'm_ not even sure what happened to me. I guess trying to do it again is the only way to find out.”

Gohan paused, then nodded in return. “Alright. Now, I'm sure your grandparents have more spare winter clothes around here...”

 

\---

 

The bulky clothes I'd been given were uncomfortable, but they did help to ward off some of the cold, particularly as we flew. We were going at a leisurely speed for Videl's sake, but the wind still bit at my face as we gained altitude and distance towards the mountains. I would've taken the most scalding desert heat over this ubiquitous stinging chill. 

Thankfully, as my grandparents had explained, the icy temperatures would last only one season. (Back home, we had roughly the same climate no matter what time of year, excluding the poles that I'd never visited.)

I wasn't the only one with wishful thoughts of hotter weather. I could hear Videl give the occasional sneeze or sound of disgust as we soared over the forests, with Gohan asking her once every ten minutes if she was okay to continue flying. I could tell she was annoyed by the second time, but she didn't snap at Gohan for it. I hadn't exchanged much more than introductions with her, but something about her personality seemed familiar, so I felt less like an awkward stranger with her there.

I began to notice that the trees below were speckled with white – and as we went further, the white became like a giant blanket over the mountain. I'd never seen so much untouched vegetation in my life, let alone seeing it iced over. And I'd thought the blue sky was distracting. 

When Gohan began to descend into a clearing below, a small, mostly dome-shaped building in the centre of it, I dropped from the air with enthusiasm to see this snow for myself. 

“Hey, if I were you I wouldn't -” I heard Videl say before everything suddenly became muffled, cold and white as I dropped into a pile of snow that'd been a lot deeper than expected. 

A second later and I'd shot back out of it, sending the substance scattering as I landed on the surface and hurriedly tried to brush chunks of it off me.

“Fuck, it's cold!” I yelled. Oh gods, it was most definitely going to melt into wet globs inside my clothes.

“What did you expect? It's _frozen_ ,” Gohan called over, trying not to laugh at me. 

“Oh, _really?_ ” I said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “How was I supposed to know the pile was that deep? I didn't think it would be that freezing, either! Damn it, I have it down my shirt!”

“Who's yelling out there?” I heard Goku's voice drift across the clearing. Looking over, I could see the door of the small building opened to reveal him standing in the entryway.  


“It's just Trunks,” Gohan said, and then Videl followed up. 

“He's so thrilled about the weather that he wants to take part in the polar bear swim this year,” she said. 

“You guys must be cold. Come inside,” Goku gestured, so we began making our way over.

The whiteness gave way under my weight as I walked, though I didn't sink like a rock like I had a minute ago. It was like the clouds had frozen and broken apart, fallen in silence over everything. The sunlight was glaring off it – I wondered if the frames Gohan wore were possibly meant to protect his eyes.

Inspecting one of my gloves, I noticed the snow was more like a powder. The specks were too small for me to make out the shape, however. Looking over at Gohan, they stood out starkly in his black hair from where some of the snow had spattered on him. The same went for Videl.

As we reached the entrance of the house and went inside, closing the door behind us, I realized how small the place actually was. Perhaps for them, it was all they needed, but even Gine's house back home had been larger. Not only that, but as I looked around at the almost entirely wood dwelling, I understood how little technology I could see, if any. The lighting was the sole exception.

The second thing that struck me was that this was Goten's house as well. It came as a shock that his family was very far from wealthy. Of all the races in the cosmos that had a monarchy, the Saiyans' certainly wasn't the richest – but my family still had ten times the privilege of any ordinary citizen. I'd never been anywhere near a lifestyle where I didn't have every physical need met, and yet Goten and his parents' house... must've been crafted entirely by their own hands. 

There was a large, burning wood fireplace in one wall. The structure surrounding it was brick, but the entire place smelled like trees, because that's all it was made of. The main room was personalized with decorations that made it seem cozy, but rustic.

Videl and Gohan walked in ahead of me, as I was still taking it all in. However, the snow that had most definitely started melting in my clothes was becoming an uncomfortable distraction. 

“Come on in, Trunks. Don't be shy,” Goku said. He was wearing ordinary apparel like the rest of us were, and it was a bit unusual to see. 

Remembering my manners, I removed my jacket, gloves, and shoes and came into the living room, still looking around at it all. 

“This is a beautiful house,” I said. 

“Really? Thanks, I made most of it myself. Stuff has been added over the years, but I built the structure by hand. Chi-Chi helped with some of it too,” Goku said proudly. 

“Are you serious?” I balked. “That's incredible.”

Goku merely grinned at that. 

“We didn't have the lights or landline installed when I was a kid,” Gohan commented. “I still remember what a big deal it was when Goten got a cellphone.”

“This place never ceases to amaze me. It's so secluded, but it's quite beautiful,” Videl replied. 

At that moment I heard a door close from the other end of the house, accompanied by an aura I guessed was Chi-Chi's.

A minute later, she rounded the corner into the room, looking surprised – but not unhappy – that we were here. 

“Gohan, Videl! And Trunks! How nice to see you,” she said, moving to embrace her son lengthily first, followed by Videl. Then, to my surprise, she hugged me in turn, quite tightly in fact. When she let go, Gohan began to speak.

“We came to see how you and Dad were doing,” he said in a sympathetic tone. “Trunks and Dr. Briefs and I have been working on the radar, but... I really wanted to make sure you were holding on okay.”

Chi-Chi nodded slowly. “It's... a terrible thing. None of this should've had to happen, especially not to my dear family. Not to my youngest boy. Not to poor Trunks – he's lost his mother, and who knows what the hell his father is doing in all this mess.”

“Chi-Chi,” Goku said, standing next to her as a comfort. We were all gathered closely together, trying to offer a physical sense of consolation to each other.

“I know we're going to fix this, put it all back the way it was. But I... I just feel so helpless.” She sniffled, now trying to reign in her emotions. “Gohan, honey, you know your father and me are always there for you, right? I know Videl's there to help you, especially now with your arm... But if you need to talk to me, it's the least I can do.”

She then turned to me, taking my hand in hers. “You too, Trunks. Goten always spoke so highly of you. I just feel like you're a part of who he was, even though I'm only now getting to know you. This all must be so much to deal with – trying to adjust to a new place, seeing your dear sister for the first time, being here without the people that wanted you to see it most. Don't think you have to do this alone, okay?”

I nodded, feeling her strong but kind hands hold mine. Meeting her eyes, I could see the same maternal affection my own mother had, even if the two looked nothing alike. Emotions stirred in my chest, but I had the wherewithal to not completely break down.

“Mrs. Son...” I said, trying to muster the right words. “Goten, he – he saved my life. And I wasn't able to repay him. It isn't just a matter of owing him that debt. He was... my best friend. The Saiyan language has a more fitting term, but I'm afraid the strength of meaning is lost in translation. What I can say is that he died fighting where many warriors would've fled. I promise you, I'll do everything I can to get him back. But until then...”

I took a small step back, letting my hand slide out of hers. I knew on this planet that Chi-Chi was a form of royalty, so I figured the respect I was about to give fit the words that would accompany it.

I knelt with both knees on the ground, curling one hand into a fist and setting it on the floor in front of me, putting my weight on my knuckles so that my torso rested on an incline. My other hand relaxed on my leg and I looked at the floor as I spoke. 

“For what I owe to Goten, you, and your family... If there's anything within my power or reason you want to ask of me, I'll grant it to you. I promise, on my word as the Prince of All Saiyans.”

There was total, dead silence for a moment before I heard Goku's confused laughter and Chi-Chi began trying to reassure me in an embarrassed manner. 

“Oh my! That – that's really not necessary, Trunks. Goodness, I'm no empress – you certainly don't owe us anything! You don't have to bow like that...” she blurted, like she was encouraging me to stand back up. 

“Uh...” I sounded, not really sure what to say, remaining where I was though I relaxed my posture and looked up. 

Apparently, my intended gesture of respect had been _too_ ceremonious. It certainly wasn't something I did everyday back home – or had ever been humble enough to do before at all – but I'd thought it acceptable for what I wanted to express. 

“Ah, but don't worry though, you didn't do anything wrong,” Chi-Chi said, noting my change in expression. “I'm very flattered. I just wasn't expecting it. But, if doing us a small favour would put you at ease, you could... um, help cut some firewood. Yes, that sounds perfect. I need to get dinner going soon – you're welcome to stay, of course. I can give your grandparents a call just to let them know.”

“Alright,” I said, accepting her offer in return as I stood up. I still felt a little awkward, but at least she was willing to let me help, even if it was with something small. 

 

\---

 

Cutting firewood wasn't a difficult task, but it had to be done all by hand, with an axe.

Goku had felled the intended tree beforehand and showed me how to properly use the metal-edged tool. It didn't take long to complete the job, but using the axe reminded me of one of the things I'd been wanting to ask Goku. 

“I was wondering,” I said, my breath coming out in puffs as I piled the now split logs into my arms, “do you know of anywhere on this planet I could get a new sword? You... probably saw that mine was broken into pieces, and even if I knew how to reforge it myself, it's all back home in the desert somewhere.”

“A new sword, huh?” Goku mused, also gathering up our completed work. “Well, I guess there are places here that have them, but I wouldn't know where to start. I don't think anything made here would be strong enough for you. That one you had – Vegeta got it from this guy working as a bounty hunter. I think he was the last of his kind, though.”

“A bounty hunter? Do you know where he was from? Or do you think my father might know?” I asked.

Goku shook his head. “I remember the name he used, but I don't think it was his real one. But he died before you were born, anyway... Neither of us knew the planet where the bounty hunter said he was from. I think it got destroyed a long time ago.”

“I see,” I said, somewhat disappointed. I could try asking Father (whenever he decided he was going to show his face), but I wasn't sure I'd get more information than what Goku had provided. The sword had indeed been one of a kind, and as much as I wanted it back, it hadn't been indestructible like I'd thought. Broly had snapped it in half with his bare hands. 

That brought another question to the forefront of my thoughts. Echoes of the name Broly had been obsessed over – the reason he'd targeted Goten above everyone else. 

“There's something else I wanted to ask you as well,” I said. Something in my tone gave Goku pause, as he turned to give me his full attention. 

“You saw Broly in my memories, didn't you? You remember the things he said?” I continued. Goku nodded. 

“Is there something I should know about that? Broly recognized Goten's face to the point where he thought he was you...” I said, trailing off. 

“Trunks, if I'd have known that was gonna happen, I wouldn't have left. I had no idea Broly even existed – I'm sure I've never met him. I'd remember meeting a seven-foot tall guy dressed like that,” Goku replied. 

I didn't answer, mulling it over. With Broly dead, we wouldn't know the whole story, until Paragus was revived by default. I would have to find him when I returned to Planet Vegeta. 

After stacking some of the excess firewood, we went back inside and brought what Chi-Chi needed for her stove. It still baffled me that she cooked the food every day, or that most people on Earth did their own cooking in general. My grandparents were one of the occasional exceptions. 

Since we still had some time to wait until Chi-Chi was finished preparing food, Gohan helping her with some of the smaller tasks, Goku offered to show me Goten's room. As my clothes were also damp from my previous plunge in the snowbank, as well as my carelessness while cutting firewood, the Sons offered to loan me a set of Goten's older clothes that he wouldn't mind me borrowing. 

“You two are roughly the same size, aren't you? And it's no good for you to stay in wet clothing,” Chi-Chi had said. 

It was due to her insistence that I found myself in Goten's room, looking around and guessing at the kind of life he lived while on his home planet.

The apparel I now wore was used, but in good condition. Fitting something a few years old of Goten's made me realize I'd lost a bit of weight – thankfully, the length was fine. It made me wonder if the articles had been Gohan's before as well. 

I wasn't sure what I'd anticipated to see in Goten's room. It was somewhat tidy, excluding the desk, but that was likely his mother's doing since he'd been away. The colours were a mismatch of blues, greens, and reds, and the wood furniture was a dark shade of brown. There was a bed in one corner, a dresser across from it, and then a table covered in papers and a pair of books. Looking closer at it, I could make out a variety of things like mathematical problems amidst the scratchy-looking writing. The books followed along the same topics. 

A thin, black, and small rectangular object with a screen covering one side also rested on the desk. I assumed it had to be his cellphone. Aside from that, there wasn't much else to look at. Yet at the same time, the room fit what I knew of him well. 

The sole, large window revealed the azure sky outside, just beginning to darken. The angle likely gave a better view of sunrise than it did of sunset. I knew which one Goten preferred and his room reflected that. 

I could hear sounds elsewhere in the house that meant Chi-Chi had finished preparing the food. I took one last look around the room, almost expecting to feel the owner's presence, then left and closed the door behind me. 

 

\---

 

I stared up at the full moon as I sat on the roof of Capsule Corp. Back home, the twin moons were always juxtaposing in such a way that a sight like this was very rare – dozens of years in between even just one of the moons being full. 

The stars didn't look the same as they did back home. I didn't even know which one was home, but the constellations weren't my focus. No, it was the lunar disc that drew my attention. 

My uncle had probably hidden himself deep within the Capsule Corporation complex, as he was the only Saiyan on the planet capable of the transformation into an ape. But even though I had no tail, and there was no danger despite my bloodline, something in me still drew a connection to the glowing object in the sky. It was calming to look at, offering some peace of mind when I had so little. 

After I'd returned to my grandparents' house from the Sons', I'd figured out what exactly had become of Mom and Goten's bodies. Father had placed them in the cryo-chambers of our spaceship, perfectly preserving them, and had since brought the containers out and into one of the labs. I'd been given the room number and code to get in, if I wanted to visit. 

But I hadn't been able to bring myself to do it. Instead, I was sulking up on the roof, slowly letting myself freeze just to avoid having to see them, or go to sleep and entrap myself in nightmares. 

Father hadn't come back to the house since the morning he'd flown off. Some comfort he was. I could sense his energy, but even Goku had said my father wanted to be alone – not that I'd been planning on interrupting his solitude. He hadn't bothered to speak to his brother, the man who'd been taking care of Bulla; or Bulla herself for that matter. In fact, it was Tarble who'd been trying to sympathize with me (Gure had remained back on their planet), even while respecting distance when I wanted it. 

Which had ensued to be most of the one day I'd been on Earth. I knew time was an important factor when living with pain, but I didn't care about letting myself grieve. I just wanted my dead loved ones back. It wouldn't be long now, based on our good head start with the radar, but I couldn't help the apprehension brought along with our progress. 

_What will I say to them?_ I could hardly forgive myself for letting Mom and Goten die, and even though I knew they wouldn't blame me, my darkest thoughts said otherwise.

I pulled my hand away from my face. I'd been biting my nails again. 

Using my other hand, I ran it through my hair and sighed, letting my forehead rest in my palm for a moment. Tomorrow, I'd promised to show Gohan the power I used to defeat Broly. Truthfully, I wasn't even sure if I could do it. Wasn't sure I _wanted_ to.

My warm breath curled out into the frigid air like it'd been doing all day, prompting me to remember how damn cold I actually was. The mountain had been worse, but the nightly temperature drop on lower ground was equally discomforting. _How long have I been out here? My arms and legs are stiff and I can't feel my face._

Just then, a scratch of movement caught my ears. 

Sitting up, I quickly glanced around, not seeing anything in particular, but my sense of smell told me something was here. Something... familiar. 

Another noise alerted me, and as I turned to see the source a blue head of hair came into my vision, followed by the rest of the small person's figure illuminated by the moon. 

“Bulla?” I muttered, then came to my senses. “What the fu – what do you think you're doing on the roof?!”

“I came to get you,” she explained as I quickly moved to lift her into my arms. 

“Are you _crazy?_ It's freezing out, why are you still awake? How did you know I was here? How did you _get_ up here, for that matter?” I demanded. I ran my hands up and down her sleeves, trying to generate warmth inside her jacket as I held her close, wrapping her up in the coat I wore. I didn't even have to touch skin to know she was cold. 

“I could feel your energy. I can fly a little bit, and I climbed for the rest. I thought you would be cold, and you looked sad,” she continued. I stood up with her in my arms, then took to the air as I slowly began descending. I'd had no idea that she could sense energy, let alone fly.

“Bulla, you feel like an icicle. It's dangerous for you to be outside in this weather, not to mention climbing up a building. It's nighttime and you're too young to be by yourself,” I said as we reached the window I'd left out of. 

I'd done my fair share of reckless behaviour as a kid, but seeing it from the other side was a different story. I didn't know much about parenting, but I instinctively knew that this was an extremely rash thing for her to do, not to mention that she'd done it because of me.

“But you were by yourself, and you're just a teenager,” she pouted. “I was gonna say for you to come back inside. I just met you and I don't want you to be sad all the time.”

“You'd do something that crazy for someone you just met?” I said as I climbed in the window, closing it behind us. We were in my room; I didn't know where hers was or how she'd gotten outside. 

“You're my brother. So we gotta start lookin' out for each other from now on. You don't have an Ama or Apa like me, so I gotta help you,” she said determinedly as I sat her on the edge of the bed, pulling blankets around her shoulders. 

Her big cerulean eyes blinked at me. She shifting the blankets, flopping one corner so that it rested on my shoulder. 

“You're cold too. Why were you on the roof?” she asked.

“I wanted to see the moon. I just lost track of time,” I replied, then pursed my lips. “I... also miss home a little.”

She paused. Then, her small voice broke the silence. 

“Is that where our other family is?” she said. I looked up at her again. 

“I love my Ama and Apa. But I know you must have a Mommy and Daddy. If you're my brother, that means I get to meet them someday. But I can't have all four people plus you,” she stated.

I brushed a lock of her hair, simultaneously checking to see if she was warming up. “I don't know who told you that, but you can most definitely have all four people, plus me. You can have Apa and Ama, and also my... our mother and father. But... both our parents aren't here yet. They want to meet you together. Can you wait a little longer until they get here?”

She nodded, then gave a yawn. “Okay. Can I cuddle with you? It's past bedtime. I sometimes cuddle with Ama and Apa at my other house, but I have my own room here. People are better than stuffed animals,” she said. 

“Sure. As long as you promise not to go out at night by yourself again,” I said. 

“I won't.” She yawned again, then pulled the blankets off herself (as well as her coat and shoes) and crawled up to the top of the bed and tucked herself in. 

I took my jacket and boots off, but slept in my clothes for the second time in a row. Bulla was peaceful the night through, but I found myself under the grip of nightmares once more, awaking periodically to recall that my sister was safe and sound across from me.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter twenty-five here was supposed to be the end, but it got too long so I split it up and rearranged events a little bit. Twenty-six should be out within a couple days, as over half of it is already completed. It's still probably gonna be hella long already without this chunk stuck onto it.

The next day was the one Father finally decided to show his face, and also the day I understood why he couldn't bring himself to do it before.

I'd woken up at a more decent hour, courtesy of my sister hopping up and down on the bed when I didn't respond to her right away. Once she'd deemed me satisfactorily awake, she'd left the room to go make sure Tarble was up. (Either she didn't notice the mangled door handle, which I'd unsuccessfully tried to bend back into shape, or she just didn't care.)

Having been given a small tour around the house the previous day, I grabbed a set of new clothes and headed over to the the shower room, feeling better at the opportunity to clean up in the morning like I was used to. Once I'd done that, figured out how the cleansing paste for your teeth worked, and changed, I made my way downstairs. 

At the bottom of the steps, I was greeted by a small, furry black animal with luminous eyes that I took to be a 'cat.' It made a plaintive noise at me until I reached down to pet it a few times. It followed me into the kitchen as well. 

“Morning, grandson,” my grandmother said, nursing a mug of a familiar smelling liquid in her hands. She was still in her sleepwear, blonde curls messier than usual. “You're up earlier than yesterday. Want some coffee?”

I nodded, looking over towards the table where my uncle sat with his own coffee, clearly not a morning person as it took him a moment to notice and greet me. Bulla sat next to him, drinking something else out of a plastic cup and looking chipper. 

“I hope Bulla didn't disturb you too much last night. I didn't know she'd snuck into your room,” Tarble said. He seemed oblivious to the rest of her escapade, so I decided to leave it that way unless he asked. 

“It's alright. She's a pretty sound sleeper,” I said, giving Grandma a thank-you as she handed me a coffee and I took the cup with care. She asked if I wanted sugar or cream in it, and since I'd never had either of those things in coffee I accepted, curious as to their taste. 

As I sat down and sipped the drink, I realize how different it was with added ingredients. It wasn't unpleasant, just not what I was used to. Nothing back home leaned towards this kind of flavour. 

“So,” I began, speaking to my uncle across from me, “I guess I've seen more of you in the last day than I have in years. I haven't really had a chance to ask you about what's been happening all that time, or since I saw you at my ceremony.”

“Well... I'm afraid to say that some of our distance was purposeful,” he replied honestly. “Due to the circumstances...” He glanced over at Bulla, who had wandered off into the living room with my grandmother. 

“Trunks, I – I'm sorry about -”

“You don't have to apologize. You accepted and took care of her all this time, and I'm grateful for that,” I interjected before Tarble could finish. 

He nodded once sombrely. “She's really become like a daughter to Gure and I. I'm sure you recognize that the two of us... aren't compatible to have our own children. It's not that we hadn't considered adopting on our own time one day. But then your father came to me for help, and I knew it was important – I've never known him to ask anyone for help, especially not me. So I promised your parents I'd give Bulla the best life I could, until they could see her again.”

“And here we are... Five years later,” I said. I didn't know my uncle as well as I should've, but I could tell he had a kind heart. He was the type of person you could entrust a child to and understand they were in good hands. Something about him reminded me of Gohan, even though they looked nothing alike. 

“Five years later and Vegeta doesn't know what to do with himself,” Tarble said. I raised an eyebrow, prompting him to elaborate. 

I knew Father was mourning, like everyone was, and was clearly a little lost if his ongoing solitude was any indication. But I wasn't going to make excuses for him – I hadn't seen him since the night we'd arrived, and he'd so far made no more effort to be there for me, let alone give me the opportunity to even consider doing so for him. Even if we were going to bring Mom back, as well as Goten, that wouldn't fix everything. 

“Trunks, I'll admit I'm a bit worried for my brother's mental state,” my uncle said in a soft tone, tapping his finger on the table. “I know you, and your friend's family, aren't in the best place either... but aside from Bulma, you're probably the only person Vegeta would consider talking to. He's no stranger to hardship, but with the nature of what happened, I'm concerned he'll do something rash.”

“... Like what?” I questioned, also keeping my voice low. 

“Oh – nothing like _that_ – no,” Tarble quickly reassured. “I just have a feeling. But then again, it's probably just me being overly worried.” He shook his head. “Perhaps we should talk about something less depressing.”

I didn't reply, staring into my coffee in thought. 

 

\---

 

A little later that day, Gohan and I had spent more time working on the radar. While we did make progress, the device still wasn't fully functional, and Dr. Briefs helped as much as he could, though he left the actual physical repairs to us. Yet any development was better than none, and it meant a little more hope for us. 

Dr. Briefs had also mentioned designing a mechanical prosthetic for Gohan, but the half-blood had insisted we focus on completing the radar first. It was planned to wish his lost arm back a year from the time Mom and Goten would be revived, after the required waiting period, though Gohan would have to live and grow used to his disability during that time. Still, he'd set my grandfather's offer aside – at least for now. 

When we left the lab for a break, we found Bulla (with Videl in tow) waiting for us, excited that I now had free time to give her. My sister was happy to see Gohan as well, confirming my long-time suspicion that they knew each other from beforehand.

When Gohan looked like he was going to explain, I merely shook my head. I didn't care about that at this point; it wouldn't have been his place to tell me about her existence anyway. 

Even though it was a slightly overcast day, Bulla demanded that we take her to the park. On her continued insistence, we agreed, clearing it with my uncle first. And as it wasn't wise to fly around, Videl offered to drive us there. 

I'd obviously never been in this kind of vehicle, as far as I could remember, but I did find it a bit slow, watching things go by from the backseat with my sister. Looking up and out at the buildings and people we went by made for some interesting comparisons with back home. The most astonishing thing was how insouciant it all was – the people here weren't soldiers, the planet wasn't part of an empire. 

The park wasn't busy when we arrived, thanks to the colder weather. This didn't stop Bulla from racing to the 'playground' area, dodging in and around the equipment and making acquaintances with the other two children there. 

Videl, Gohan and I sat down on one of the provided benches. I discovered that's all there was to it – oversee Bulla's play and relax outdoors. It was mind-bogglingly mundane. 

“I guess you never got to do this as a kid, huh?” Gohan queried, probably noticing how baffled I looked as I gazed around the place. 

“It's... quite tame,” I said. “I remember climbing halfway up the archive tower as a kid for fun. Almost got caught in a sandstorm once while doing it.”

Gohan chuckled softly, while Videl just gave us both a strange look. 

“Y'know, Gohan talks about you sometimes, but meeting you in person really drives the image home,” Videl said. 

“Image?” I asked. 

“Yeah. I guess Gohan has his moments too, but even though I've only known you for a couple days, you stand out a lot from the people here. I don't mean this in a bad way – but your appearance, what I know of your personality, it all makes you seem... alien, I guess? I don't know,” she said. 

“I'm wearing regular Earth clothes. I don't see how I could stand out that much,” I said. 

“A large part of it is your mannerisms, Trunks,” Gohan explained. “Your features also don't quite match any ethnicity we have here on Earth. I don't know how long you'll wind up staying here, but from a born country rube to an alien prince, you might have a hard time fitting in for a little while.”

“Hmph. If it's anything to you, you people all look and act strange to me,” I said, prompting another small smile from Gohan. “Besides, I guess I'm only here until Mom and Goten are back. After that...” I trailed off. I hadn't actually thought about what would happen after that. Planet Vegeta would be fine on its own for the amount of time we needed here, but what was the next step? 

_What happens if there really is a war? I may have gotten rid of Broly, but Frieza's intentions are still unknown... Pitting the Saiyan race against itself will turn the galaxy upside-down._

I stared hard at the ground in front of me, wondering what the future would hold. 

“Trunks, don't worry. We can figure out our next step once we've brought Bulma and my brother back,” Gohan said. 

“I have faith in you guys,” Videl responded, but then shifted her attention wholly to Gohan as she rested her head on his shoulder. “But don't think I'll let you go back into space one-armed without me.”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” he replied, holding her with his good arm.

We then sat in thoughtful silence, occasionally making small talk as we watched my sister climb and manoeuvre her way around the colourful play equipment.

Once we'd decided it was getting time to return, we took a reluctant Bulla to the vehicle and drove back to Capsule Corp. It was just in time to avoid the light patter of rain that started a few minutes into our route. 

Much to my captivation, the weather continued by the time we were at my temporary home. I'd never seen it rain so frequently, and I wouldn't have minded being in it if the temperature was warmer. I was grateful once we were back indoors.

As he took his coat off, Gohan suggested we get a little more work done on the radar. 

“Alright. We should find my uncle first, let him know Bulla's here,” I said. Gohan nodded, about to move and do so when Videl stopped him. 

“Here, I can go find him or Mrs. Briefs. Your arm,” she said. I didn't see what an arm had to do with walking, but I supposed Videl just felt better about doing things for Gohan in his state. As she wouldn't take no for an answer, Gohan quickly gave up and let her bustle off.

Bulla yawned as she stood in place, removing her coat and making her way towards her bedroom with Gohan and I following. It was only the afternoon, but my sister apparently liked to take naps every other day, when it suited her. I couldn't recall doing the same at her age, but I'd been a pretty boisterous kid. 

“So,” I initiated in a voice so only Gohan could hear, “I guess when the weather improves, we can find somewhere outdoors to train. I haven't tried to use Super Saiyan since... that battle, so I don't really know what's going to happen when I do.”

Gohan nodded, then slowed his pace until he stopped. I looked at him quizzically. 

“I saw you. Up in the sky, against Broly. Whatever you did, it was no ordinary Super Saiyan. It was something else,” he said, meeting my eyes behind those strange frames he wore. “I never thought anything could be that strong – you gave your opponent hell for what he did. If you've found a way to ascend beyond a Super Saiyan, it changes everything.”

My surprise at Gohan using even the mildest profanity aside, he was right. It did change everything about what we'd thought were irrevocable limitations. It made me wonder about what I could now do – what I could surpass. 

_Could I... Frieza?_

I was about to reply to Gohan when Bulla did something that shifted my concentration.

“Hello,” I heard her say, sounding uncertain. I turned to look, wondering whom she was speaking to until a dark shape caught the edge of my vision – he was standing there, at the threshold of the hallway. 

Father. 

His expression was guarded, a little lost even. He was staring at Bulla like she was some sort of enigma, something vexing presented to him that he was unsure how to handle. He made no effort to respond to her greeting. 

“Are you... looking for someone?” Bulla continued. She was giving him the same look I'd received when she'd first met me, to a lesser extent. I wasn't sure if she recognized Father, or if she thought he looked like Tarble (or perhaps, though the least probable, that he looked like me). 

“... Yes,” he answered after a moment. “I was searching for Gohan, Dr. Briefs, or Trunks. I... wanted to know how their project with the radar was going.” His eyes flicked to mine. 

“Uh. We – we have made some progress,” Gohan said. “Dr. Briefs helps where he can, but Trunks and I do most of the hands-on repairs. It may be another week until the radar is completely functional – Bulma's engineering is impressive, but complex. I, well, have my limitations now, and Trunks has to work carefully so as not to break anything. However, we do have our hopes up to finish mending the device in a shorter time.”

“I see. That's... good,” Father said, and then looked distinctly uncomfortable not knowing what to say or do next. 

“Where have you been for the last two days? You might be a little more up-to-date on what's happening if you'd thought to stick around,” I interjected. I hadn't wanted it to come out sounding as bitter as it did. But having fitful sleep night after night, along with preexisting tensions, inclined to make a person bitter. 

“I didn't think I'd have any use right now, seeing as you're still fixing the device,” he said. 

“Yes, because that's clearly the only thing weighing on anyone's shoulders right now,” I retorted. 

He didn't answer that time. His gaze continued shifting from me to elsewhere in the room, like he was contemplating words but decided against them. 

I set my jaw, but kept my tone more level as I went on. “Was that all you wanted to know, Father?”

“Father?” Bulla interrupted in a small voice. 

Just then remembering she was still there, I turned to look at her. She was staring at Father again. 

“Mister, are you Trunks' dad?” she asked him. Before he could reply, she seemed to come to her own conclusion. 

“You are, aren't you? Does that mean you're my real dad too? I really love Ama and Apa, but I've never had a mom or dad,” she said. She walked a few steps closer to him; he didn't move. Her smile wavered a little when she noticed his hesitation. 

“Um, y – you don't have to be my dad if you don't want to,” she said. “But I promise I'm really good behaved. I really like being with Trunks, too. And it would be nice if I could meet Mom. Grandpa and Grandma said she's really smart and pretty.”

“Bulla,” I said. 

“Please?” she continued, ignoring me. She walked right up to Father's side and took his hand in both of hers. “I'll be good. I can be as good as Trunks. But I don't want you to leave like when I was a baby. You could get lost again and how would I find you?”

“I...” Father pulled away from her, turning his face. “I'm sorry. I -”

And with that, Father quickly turned and walked away, leaving the three of us there in differing degrees of shock. 

“Vegeta!” Gohan called after him, but there was no response. 

I moved to where Bulla was standing, about to go after my father but concern for my sister's feelings stopping me first. 

She looked up at me helplessly, eyes wide and sad. 

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked. 

“No, no – you did nothing wrong,” I reassured. 

“But he doesn't like me,” she sniffled. 

“Gohan, could you take care of her? I'm going to follow him,” I said as the eldest half-blood approached. He knelt down and scooped my sister up, looking as distraught by the situation as I felt. Bulla leaned her head into his shoulder as I turned to go after my father. 

My pursuit led me back outside, the rain only a light drizzle. Father must've sensed me following him, because he'd stopped within Capsule Corp property, at some of the more utility-designed buildings along the fringes. 

I caught up to him behind one of these warehouses, glad that no one else was in the vicinity to overhear my impending rage.

“What the fuck is your problem?” I said to my father's back. He was facing away from me, now that he was done running. 

“You could at least have the damn decency to treat your own daughter like a person,” I went on. “She's _five years old_ – you probably just broke her heart! I know the situation isn't easy for you, but it's not for me either, or anyone else! You aren't the only one grieving!”

He didn't reply. He was like a statue, but I could see his fist was clenched at his side. The other was up against the wall of the warehouse. 

“Aren't you going to say anything to me?” I demanded. “Not even a pretence of an apology or explanation? Did you finally just give up because Mom's gone? Maybe you've forgotten, but your son is still here! Doesn't that mean anything to you?”

“I haven't forgotten you,” he said lowly. 

“You're doing a terrible job of showing that! I lost Mom too, and my best friend – yet I'm not giving up on everyone else! Did it ever fucking occur to you that I feel as broken as you do right now? How much effort it takes to hold myself together? It's a lot easier to work through pain when you have someone there for you!”

“I'm not ignorant of that. I know you have Gohan, Kakarot's family. Your grandparents, my brother.”

“The only one of those people I truly know is Gohan, and maybe Goku! And neither of them are my father! Please, I – I can't do this with you anymore. I'm at the end of the rope, Father.” There was now a tremor in my voice, but I was able to contain myself. 

He was still turned away from me, but he brought one of his hands up to his face. 

“Please, just say something,” I went on. “Anything. I've already failed enough, I can't keep feeling like I've failed you too. And I won't let you do the same to my sister.”

“You're wrong,” he said. I paused. 

“You're wrong,” he repeated. “I'm the one who's failed. My family – you, your mother, your sister... Your lives were mine to protect, and I failed. I've failed my race, all because I should've fought back from the beginning. Our culture was damaged when we lost our home planet, and it was our own fault. We gave away what was left of our pride willingly when we became Frieza's soldier-slaves. Perhaps I should have accepted destruction instead.”

“Father...”

He was shaking with rage. At himself, at everything. I still couldn't see his expression. 

“You don't understand,” he said. “Bulma was the first person I ever cared about, the first person to ever care for me in return. She loved you more than her own life, while I lied to myself and to you for so long. And I've lost you both. I don't even deserve to look at that little girl – my daughter by blood alone. And Goten... he deserved all the long life that should've been ahead of him, not the wretched end he was reduced to making up for my failure.”

He shifted a little, now standing without leaning on the wall. “What child would see me and be proud that I am their father? What have I done, besides make you hate me? When you were young, I was afraid – I knew that if we were divided, you would choose to be with your mother over me. I would never see you again. Yet keeping you with me has done more damage than if we'd stayed apart.”

“That's not true,” I countered. To which words, I wasn't sure, but I felt I had to say it. “You – you have made mistakes, but I don't hate you. What happened before... What matters most is right now. I'm here, Bulla is here. We're going to fix what happened to Goten and Mom. We have a second chance.”

I gazed up at the sky for a moment, taking in a breath as light raindrops landing on my face and shoulders. The clouds overhead were sparse enough that some sunlight filtered through. When I looked back down, I took a few steps closer to Father. 

“That... that's not the only thing that could have a second chance. We can start over,” I blurted. “I mean – I'm not going to ask you to become someone you're not. Nobody's perfect. But all that's happened between you and I – I can't make myself forget, but I can try learning to put it behind me. If we start treating each other as equals, we – we can earn everything back that we should've had.”

Once again, he was giving me the silent treatment. My sight dropped to the ground. 

“If you don't want to... you could leave and do whatever you want,” I said, somehow keeping my composure. “But if things don't change between us, after all this, I can't go home with you. Actually, I don't even know how long it'll take for me to be myself again, after what happened. I'm not sure I can fight to my potential like this. Either way, we can't remain the same.”

He once more brought his hand to his face, then away again. “Equals, huh...? Perhaps... it is time to make things right. Until I do that, Trunks... forgive me. You really have become a good man.”

I furrowed my brows. His answer was cryptic, to say the least. I wasn't sure if it constituted a yes or no – but it was still clear from his words that some part of him understood. 

Then he turned to face me and put his hand on my shoulder. 

I'd thought it was anger that had made him tremble – but now that I could see his expression, it took me a moment to process that he'd been crying.

It now made sense why he hadn't wanted to look at me.

I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything. I probably looked as dumfounded as I felt, but he didn't snap at me for staring, nor did he mention his broken-down state at all. 

“I promise that I'm going to make things right,” he reiterated, “and for now, I'd best start with your sister. Let's go.”

I nodded once, and we made our way back to the main building of Capsule Corporation. 

It wasn't hard to find Bulla and Gohan, as they were right where we'd left them. But now, Videl had returned, along with my uncle. He was holding my sister, talking to her in a soft voice until he noticed us come in. He set her down as Father approached. 

“Hey,” Father said as he knelt down to Bulla's level. She didn't reply, but kept her attention on him. 

“My apologies for leaving so suddenly earlier,” he went on. “I didn't mean to give you the wrong impression.”

“What's 'impression' mean?” she asked. 

“It's an idea or feeling. I mean that I don't want you to think I'm not your father. I simply got emotional – I haven't seen you in so long.”

“Ohhhhh. Okay. I guess I forgive you, then. Nobody's perfect,” she said, and I broke a smile at the words I'd uttered myself mere minutes ago. 

“So, are you really my dad then? For real?” she asked, now starting to smile. She let go of Tarble and closed the gap between her and Father.

“Of course. You're my daughter no matter what,” he replied. In response, Bulla started bouncing up and down and squealing. 

“Yay! I've got a brother and a dad now! I'm so happy! Then when Trunks and Mr. Gohan use that thing to bring Mommy here, it'll be perfect! Daddy, can you pick me up? I'm not strong enough to pick you up yet, but I can pick up Ama! I can pull Apa around too, but not by his tail. You know, you kind of look like Apa,” she blabbered as Father lifted her in his arms. 

“He's my younger brother,” Father explained. “Like how Trunks is your older brother.”

“Oh, I get it! 'Cept I only look like Trunks a little bit. We both have blue eyes.”

“Your mother has blue eyes, too. When she gets here in a few days, she'll be very happy to meet you.”

“I can't wait!” Bulla laughed. 

 

\---

 

I gave a light kick to the nearby rock with my boot, giving my surroundings a once-over. 

The weather of the broader vicinity had finally improved the day after Father met Bulla, so we'd taken the opportunity to leave the city's boundaries and find a place to spar. I was anxious (but also anticipating) unleashing my power for the first time in days, not completely certain how I'd measure up. I knew I was stronger – that was for sure – but how much stronger could only be assessed based on my defeat of Broly. Until everyone could get a good look at the transformation I'd unlocked, that was. 

Goku and Father had also opted to come with Gohan and I, and we now found ourselves in a massive clearing surrounded by forest. It was the closest place to use, but isolated enough for our purposes. There were wastelands on Earth that more closely resembled the deserts of home, I'd been told, but they were a longer flight away. 

Since we weren't planning all-out combat, we all wore clothes that were casual, but easy to move around in, with the exception of Goku who'd donned his orange training gi. Ghan had also left his frames behind, presumably to avoid breaking them by accident.

It still wasn't warm out, but I expected I wouldn't be bothered by it so much once I got my blood going. I began stretching my arms and legs a little, already having tied my hair up before I'd left. 

“So, do you think you can transform right off the bat?” Goku asked me as he started stretching as well. “Or is that maybe more difficult, as you've only just learned this new state?”

“I'm not sure. I can give it a try, but I might need to start with ordinary Super Saiyan,” I replied. 

“Alright then. Ready when you are,” he said as he straightened his back and put his hands on his hips. Father stood near him, crossing his arms and Gohan was on the other side of me. 

I rolled my shoulders, making sure I was loosened up enough, then exhaled, summoning my ki for the first time in what seemed like forever. A few stray pieces of earth rose into the air as I let my energy go, my hair and eyes brightening to gold and teal as my aura swelled, the beginnings of adrenaline emerging in my veins. 

“Hmm... That's just an ordinary Super Saiyan, but you're definitely stronger than before. You might even be stronger than me!” Goku commented. 

“It... feels a little different, too,” I said. It was true, my Super Saiyan state had a notable increase in energy, and I was probably stronger than any of the three men here with me. However, it seemed that using the transformation again brought a faint, phantom pain on the upper side of my chest, where my scar was. Since I knew I was healed, I tried to ignore the minor distraction. It was simply my body responding to the memory of being injured and having this feeling of power both at once – that was all. 

Unlike every other time I'd gone Super Saiyan, I could sense that I had more energy yet untapped, not the slowly-burning-out sensation of being at maximum. All the same, try as I might, that energy wasn't coming to me. It didn't feel like a physical restraint, but like there was a mental wall, preventing me from using my full power without bringing back all the unwanted memories with it. They were eerily close to the surface, and I didn't like it. 

“I'm not sure why, but I... it's not working,” I said after trying for the third time. 

“We can sense your energy spiking up, but it's not staying there,” Gohan said. 

“Perhaps at this unmastered stage, you have to be in combat to activate it,” Father added. “If you can recall those feelings once more, you should be able to harness it at will after that.”

“Okay,” I agreed. “I guess it won't hurt to warm up with a sparring match.”

“If no one else minds, I'd like to try first. I want to see how I can fight like this,” Gohan said, referring to his lost limb. 

Asking to participate in a spar was a little unusual for him, but not unheard of. Goku and Father reluctantly accepted Gohan going first, just so he could get a feel for his new balance and how he would have to compensate for his limitations. However, he also agreed to step back once I was able to ascend to the next level. 

I slid into a familiar stance as Gohan became a Super Saiyan, going into his usual stance as well except reversed. That was one recompense made immediately obvious, but since we weren't actually fighting to defeat one another, the observation didn't matter so much. 

He struck first, coming in with a series of right-hand jabs which I easily dodged just by moving my body. I retaliated with a pair of kicks, which he darted back to avoid so I followed up with four consecutive ki blasts, two of which he averted, one he blocked and the last clipped by his ribs on the left side. 

I came at him with an elbow to the chest, hitting him squarely as he was off-kilter from the previous attack. I didn't put full force or speed of course, but neither did I relent, flurrying punches at him and then launching a knee to the other side of his ribcage, which he managed to avert and then swung a hit into the space near my shoulder and I jumped back to gain more distance, my scar singing in pain. 

_You're not hurt, Trunks,_ I told myself as I winced. My ki was beginning to rise and maintain itself like I'd wanted, but the inexplicable throbbing from my old wound was getting worse. I struck my fist against it, determined to get it to stop one way or another. We'd been kicking up a small amount of dirt, and the scent reminded me of how it'd intermingled with the tang of blood the night I'd received the scar. 

“Trunks, are you okay?” Gohan asked, still in a fighting stance. 

“Fine,” I grit out. 

“Is it working?” Goku called over. 

“It might if you'd all just be quiet and let me concentrate,” I muttered under my breath. That irritability that'd been plaguing me, probably just from not enough sleep, was already edging into my mood. My aura was definitely responding to the emotion. 

Letting my energy grow even more, I returned to putting Gohan on the defensive, he focusing on mainly just blocking or avoiding my attacks. I dealt him another kick in the chest that sent him into the air, then summoned a sphere of energy to my palms and fired it. Flipping, he pressed his hand to the ground and launched away from the onslaught, effectively dodging it. But the resulting explosion as it hit the ground tossed him to one side, skidding as he regained his footing on the earth and the smoke furled upwards. 

Gohan retaliated by firing an energy beam of his own, heading straight for me. I was about to slap it away, but then – 

_Broly suddenly lifted into the air, raising his hand above his head as summoning a swirling vortex above his palm, laughing as he did so. This time, he'd formed an absolutely massive ball of ki, several times the size of the ones we'd been knocking away. This one was on a far different level._

_Then he hurled it down at us. I couldn't dodge. If I did, the blast would strike the planet. I threw my up arms up and braced myself._

Gohan's attack struck me dead-centre and, stunned as I was, it sent me hurtling and I landed on my back. 

“I think you're almost there! Trunks, remember what it was like the last time you transformed!” Goku called again. I really wanted him to stop giving me 'helpful suggestions' – but I was unable to continue the thought when Gohan was there, about to strike me just as I was about to get up. 

But he paused, standing over me. 

_I could barely breathe, but that wasn't the worst of it. Increasing pressure on my already damaged ribs, an audible crack was heard by us both and I screamed as white-hot pain shot through my torso. But he didn't stop – he enhanced the weight, and even as I tried to do something, anything, to push him off, it was futile._

“What's wrong?” the man standing over me said. “Trunks, are you okay?”

I saw the blue sky behind him, blue like the lightning around my body. _Remember what it was like. Remember._ But the sky then wasn't blue. It was red, a deep, dark red like the nights of Planet Vegeta. Like my blood in the dark. 

I smelled the blood, smoke, dust – and I sensed, I _saw_ , a powerful golden-haired Saiyan that was standing there about to kill me and then a familiar power raced through my veins.

I was up on my feet and I hit the Saiyan as hard as I could, sending them flying across a massive distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was soooo conflicted over how I wrote the conversation between Trunks and Vegeta and the whole Bulla interaction. I'll let you guys be the final judges of it for me.


	26. Chapter 26

“What the – ! His hair looks different... Is this the strength he used? It's unreal!” a voice spoke from somewhere nearby.

“Yes, but I think something's wrong! Trunks, you're hitting Gohan too hard!” a more familiar one added.

_Gohan? Gohan is hurt. Goten is hurt. Mom is in trouble._

I was in front of the Saiyan opposing me in an instant, the shock on his face at my speed clear. He was Broly – but he was not. I didn't know who he was, but my rational mind was not in the driver's seat as I struck him again, and again and again as I ignored the pain in my upper chest.

He was spared any more unexpended rage of mine when something solid crashed into my side, causing me to launch away until I reoriented myself mid-air and stopped, landing on my feet.

This new person wasn't Broly either, they were too small and compact. But their hair was glowing gold, so they had to be him, because neither Goku nor Father were here to help and Goten and his brother were dying, dying and I _had_ to protect them.

“Snap out of it, boy!” the person said. They were unable to dodge my ensuant knee in the solar plexus, or dropping elbow in the back. I grabbed them by the arm and threw them away, their path driving a long gouge into the earth.

They struggled back to their feet, teal eyes staring into mine. Something in the back of my mind was screaming at me to recognize this face, but I couldn't.

“Kakarot! It's like he's looking right through me!” they said. “Trunks, it's me for gods' sake!”

Someone attacked from behind me, but I angled myself away and turned to grab them by their shirt, about to deck them in the face when a shred of sense broke through and I realized I did recognize this person. Their golden hair faded, as did their bright eyes.

Coal coloured irises stared back at me, full of concern. Tousled black bangs fell over his forehead, playful but masculine features now drawn with dismay. He was wary, still vigilant as I released his shirt and let my arms fall to my sides.

“Goten?” I said.

“Uh,” he responded, blinking at me in mild surprise now. I blinked back, trying to clear the haze from my vision when I had another epiphany.

The sky was blue again, and I was standing not in front of my best friend, but his father Goku.

“Yeah, it's me,” he said, and I recalled for the umpteenth time that he could read minds. “Now don't panic, but, uh, you almost turned Gohan and your dad into mashed potatoes. On the bright side, you did spark the ascended Super Saiyan state...”

“What?” I replied, taking a moment to look around. The first thing to catch my eye was the gouged out swath of dirt, which I followed until I reached where Father was standing, holding a hand over his chest. When we met eyes, he returned to his base form.

I let my own transformation go, allowing my energy to fall right back to my normal form, my hair drifting down to the sides of my face. It must've come undone while I was – while I was...

Gohan seemed to have recovered a little, able to stand upright. However, there was definitely blood coming out of his nose, which I didn't think was broken, but there was also a whole host of bruises likely waiting to form on his body.

I felt my legs become weak so I let them give out, now sitting on the ground.

“What... What was that?” I choked out. “It... I wasn't here. I was back there, the night that everything...”

“Trunks,” Gohan said as he made his way over to me. (He sounded remarkably understanding for someone probably in a lot of pain.)

“Sometimes,” he began, “when bad things happen to people... it triggers reactions they can't control. Negative moods, nightmares... even flashbacks of the traumatic memory, like what just happened to you. The reason you couldn't transformation at first wasn't any physical problem – you were just trying to avoid anything that reminded you of what happened. I shouldn't have asked you to do this so soon.”

“You were able to continue the transformation once you came to your senses, but regardless of whether a loss of control like this occurred again, this type of instability is still a risk in battle,” Father said, pursing his lips in thought.

Goku helped me to my feet again, but I couldn't meet the eyes of anyone around me.

“Don't worry about it, Trunks. We'll figure it out. I'm sure it'll be fine once we have Goten and your mom back,” Goku tried to reassure. “Losing them is the main reason you're having trouble, no? Besides, since you have that Ascended Saiyan form now, you've proven that there _is_ another level, after all this time. That means we'll have to train until we're eventually that strong, too.”

“Kakarot, you and I have spent our entire lives training,” Father cut in. “We know strong feelings can bring out our inner power, but all of us standing here have lost the same thing. Why could he achieve this new level and no one else?”

“That's not quite correct, Vegeta. None of us are the same, so logically what causes someone to snap would differ between each of us. Not only that, but Trunks was the last person standing during that battle, carrying the responsibility of everyone's lives, and he watched his mother and best friend die right in front of him at the hands of... that monster. I was laying barely conscious elsewhere, and neither you nor Dad were directly present. Facing a situation like that is a lot for anyone, not to mention an already turbulent seventeen-year-old,” Gohan explained.

I was about to protest being turbulent, but the objection seemed a little hollow considering what had just happened. I let it go in favour of mulling over the rest of what he'd said, which made enough sense, although I might've used a weightier term like 'desperation' to explain what that night had felt like. There were several moments where Broly had nearly killed me, the first of which Goten alone had saved me from. The helplessness in the ensuing hours made it worse.

It made me think. A Saiyan of Broly's strength (I supposed my strength, now) on our side would've been what our people needed to escape what Father described as slavery. Because of fear, _his_ father had destroyed that chance.

Perhaps it was the sentimentality of my human side that enabled me to unlock my strength, that caused the perfect balance between the ambition of battle and the compassion to remember what it was you fought for. Perhaps this explained why the potential of a half-blood was more by nature than that of either a pure human or a pure Saiyan. Either way, fear was our antithesis – therefore, no matter what, I refused to let my emotions of a bygone event control me. I said so out loud, to the interest of the trio standing around me.

“I don't care what it takes. We're going to bring Goten and my mother back, and I'm going to train this new form until I can do it in my sleep,” I promised.

“That's the spirit! We just have to think of a way for you to train that's safe,” Goku said.

“I agree,” Gohan added, “but you may have to be patient with yourself for a little while. It might seem time-consuming, but your mind is the most important organ in your body. Let it start to heal first before you do anything drastic.”

“But how much time will that take?” Father asked.

Gohan shook his head. “It's been less than a week, Vegeta. I know you can attest to the fact that some scars don't ever heal. I think Trunks will be alright – just give him that time.”

“I don't know how much of that we have,” Father said quietly, but then made no more remarks about it. I wasn't sure what exactly he meant, but I assumed his concern was for leaving our people behind for too long.

 

\---

 

Five days later, several pulsing lights on the edges of a circular, green display gave us our first leap forward.

When Gohan and I left the lab in excitement, we resolved to give the Dragon Radar a test-run to ensure it was working properly. Each blip on the screen gave an approximate distance, so we chose the closest one and got ourselves dressed for the weather – at our speed, it was roughly one hour to the north of Capsule Corp, and we'd be going by air.

Before taking off on our journey, we went around asking if anyone else at Capsule Corp (namely, Father or Tarble) wanted to go with us. Bulla was taking her nap for the day, and Tarble politely declined our request. Father's energy was elsewhere in the complex, but as I was anticipating finding our first Dragon Ball too much, I decided not to wait and ask him.

Once Gohan and I had donned warm enough clothes we sped off, eager to confirm the results of our days of work. As expected, the sky was cold, but the hour of flight seemed shorter than anticipated as we finally drew within a kilometre of distance to our target.

The area was completely forest, crowded with massive green trees and a towering cliff. There was no snow here like the mountains, but a faint chill tainted the air as we began narrowing down where exactly we ought to begin searching.

After wandering around the landscape of all identical vegetation (me following the older half-blood, as he held the radar), Gohan came to a stop and looked around.

“It says we're pretty much on top of it,” he said. “It might be buried in a pocket underneath tree roots, perhaps.”

“Alright. What am I looking for?” I asked. I didn't really know what a Dragon Ball looked like, other than the token spherical shape.

“It'll be a bright orange colour, with one or more stars in the middle. It looks like it's made of glass,” he said.

“Bright orange, huh?” I said, taking his advice and surveying around the bases of the trees.

After a few minutes of looking, I began to get annoyed when no potential hiding spot turned up. Gohan didn't seem to be having any success either, and as he paused to take his eye-frames off and clean them with the cuff of his jacket, I was about to voice my complaints when a blur of movement caught my eye.

Off to the side, some small animal – brown pelt, with long ears matched only by the proportions of its back legs – emerged from the ground, then scurried off in a blur. Curious, I moved over to the hole it had left from, crouching down to inspect it.

Taking a second to mull it over, I pulled up my sleeve and stuck my hand carefully down the hole, stopping when I grazed something cold and smooth within the soft earth.

“Did you find something?” Gohan called over as I manoeuvred my fingers to grasp the object, drawing it free and then inspecting it in the light.

It was a lot smaller than I'd pictured, but otherwise as Gohan had described it – sunset orange, with a glassy sheen and two small stars in the core. It was smooth to the touch, and neither dirt nor fingerprints left blemishes on it.

“I think we have our first Dragon Ball,” I said, rising to my feet and pulling my sleeve down after dusting my arm off. I presented my finding to Gohan, and he smiled.

“It's the two-star. Excellent. That means our radar is working perfectly. Only six more of these to go. We might be able to find them all in a couple of days or less, provided we have a large enough group searching, and of people that can fly,” he said.

I nodded. That would entail him, myself, Goku, Piccolo, and Father; possibly Videl, Tarble, and that other man who appeared to be an old friend of my mother – Yamcha – as well. Gohan and I figured we should head back to Capsule Corp first to alert everyone (including my grandparents) of the news, so I made to hone in on my Father's energy; since it was the largest it worked best as a beacon towards where I wanted to go.

Except that it wasn't at Capsule Corp anymore.

Pursing my lips, I expanded my senses to the larger reaches surrounding the complex, but turned up nothing. Deciding I didn't want to sit there and search the whole planet for my father's ki when he was probably just off being himself, I focused on my uncle's instead and took to the sky, Gohan following behind me.

We allowed ourselves to fly a little more quickly on the way back, but staying high enough in the freezing sky to remain out of sight – while simultaneously avoiding any possible aircraft – hindered our speed, just as it had on the journey there.

I doubted we'd commence the search for the rest of the Dragon Balls that day, as there weren't many hours left until sunset, but that didn't prevent me being anxious to reveal our success as Gohan and I touched down at Capsule Corp.

“Can I use your phone?” Gohan asked as we stepped inside. “I can call Mom and Dad and let them know we found the first Dragon Ball. Videl, too – I left my cell at our house.”

“Sure. I think there's a communicator-phone in the kitchen. I'll find Father and my uncle and let them know. My grandparents, too,” I replied.

After taking my jacket off, I wondered where I should put the two-star ball for the time being. I'd carried it in my hands the whole way; it was too big to fit in my pocket. (Gohan had carried the radar.)

I turned it in the light, taking a moment to admire how it refracted inside the polished sphere. Despite its apparent magical properties, it looked delicate, so I didn't just want to set it down on a table and have it roll off.

Shrugging, I compromised by placing it amidst the bowl of fruit on the kitchen counter, near where Gohan was punching in numbers on the telephone device. He looked over and gave a small grin at my choice of resting place just before I left the room.

“Grandmother? Grandfather?” I called out, sensing their energies close by. Behind me, I could hear Gohan talking, presumably to his mother as I heard my grandmother give an answering shout.

“We found a Dragon Ball!” I said, then felt her and Dr. Briefs' auras start moving towards me.

“Ack! Dad, what did I tell you!” Gohan suddenly chastised as I felt Goku's ki appear next to his out of nowhere.

“Sorry, Gohan. Didn't mean to scare ya. I heard your mom say you got a Dragon Ball? You guys finally got the radar working?” Goku said.

“Yeah. It's in the fruit bowl there. Mom's still on the line,” Gohan replied as my grandparents rounded the corner.

“So you found the first one, eh?” Dr. Briefs said.

“Yeah. The radar's working pretty smoothly. I guess this means we can start searching tomorrow, right?” I asked.

“Oh, this is so exciting! I can't wait to see our girl again! How hard was it to find the Dragon Ball? Your cheeks are a bit rosy, you look like you've been out in the cold for a while,” Grandmother said, putting her hands on the sides of my face.

“I was. Gohan and I flew for about an hour to get there, but it was worth it. Um, do you know where Father went? I should probably go get him and my uncle.”

“Hmm... I'm afraid I haven't seen your father, dear. Tarble's reading in the study and I think Bulla should be getting up from her nap soon. Should I get a pot of tea on to warm you and Gohan up?”

I gave a vague sort of nod, wondering if I should just ask Goku to find and teleport to Father while I alerted my uncle of our findings. Turning back into the kitchen, I entered to find Goku holding the Dragon Ball in his hands, smiling at it.

“Goku,” I said, making him direct his attention to me. “Can you get my father for me? I don't know where he went off to.”

“Oh. Right! Okay. He's probably not too far,” Goku answered, then put his fingers to his forehead to begin sensing around.

I indicated for my grandparents to wait in the kitchen as I left once more to retrieve my uncle, and Bulla as well.

A few minutes later, I found Tarble exactly where I'd been told he'd be. He looked up from his book when I entered the room, probably able to see my excitement from my body language.

“We have our first Dragon Ball!” I said. “Everyone's meeting in the kitchen area. Is Bulla still sleeping?”

“Oh! Uh, I'm not sure,” he said as he rose to his feet. “I can go check on her. She'd be waking up soon anyway.”

“Alright. By the way, do you know where my father went?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I haven't seen him since just after you left. I thought perhaps he might've tried to catch up with you, but I guess that isn't the case.”

“Oh. So he did know what we were doing?”

“Yes. I confirmed to him that you'd gotten the radar working and were going to test it. Evidently it worked, but one would think he'd stick around to see the results.”

“Hn. Anyway, Goku's probably found him already. Can I go get Bulla?”

“Of course. I'll head to the kitchen,” Tarble agreed. We left in separate directions as I detoured over to where my sister's room was.

I reached the door, pausing to knock lightly before inching it open and looking in. Bulla was curled under a nest of blankets and stuffed animals, identifiable by her blue streams of hair. She stirred as I stepped into the room – being a half-blood like me, she'd probably heard me approaching from a ways down the corridor.

“Bulla, are you awake?” I asked softly. She turned over, rubbing her eyes and then slowly sat up, eyes locking blearily on me as I approached her bed.

“Uh-huh,” she said. “I had a bad dream and I couldn't get back to sleep very good. I feel a bit better now that you're here.”

“A bad dream? What was it about?” I asked. She merely shook her head in response.

“Well, either way, I have something to show you that might cheer you up. I found something that's going to help us bring our mom here,” I said. “It looks like a pretty gem. Do you want to come see it?”

“Okay. But my dream made me feel bad. Can you carry me?” she asked. I agreed by gently scooping her up, and she made herself comfortable by snuggling into my shoulder and playing with my hair as I carried her out. It felt more natural to have her in my arms now than when I'd first arrived – she was smart enough to tell me if I was holding her wrong, despite her coinciding insistence that she was a 'big kid' and didn't need to be carried.

When we arrived at the kitchen, everyone was waiting for us – however, that group still excluded Father.

“You couldn't find him?” I queried to Goku. The man scratched his head.

“No. I'm not sure why. I guess he could be hiding his energy, but it doesn't make sense why he'd do that,” he replied.

“Uncle – you were probably the last person who saw my father today. That was less than two hours ago, right? Did he give any indication to where he would go?” I said to Tarble.

Before he could respond, a soft voice against my shoulder answered.

“In my dream, Daddy said he would come back,” Bulla said quietly. “But if he's not here, I guess it wasn't a dream.”

“Hm? Bulla?” I sounded in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

“I thought I was dreaming. Daddy woke me up and told me he wanted to say goodbye. I asked why, and he said he had to leave for a little while, but that he was gonna come back after he fixed things,” she replied.

“'Fixed things?' What would he have to fix, exactly?” Goku questioned.

“Bulla, honey, he didn't tell you anything else?” Tarble interjected as he stepped over to me and I set Bulla down.

“He told me to look after Trunks, and to be really good for Mom when she gets here,” Bulla said.

“... I... I don't understand. Where would he go? And for what?” I thought out loud. It didn't make sense, him leaving as soon as the radar was completed and then not staying for –

“The ship,” Gohan blurted. “We can't sense him anywhere on Earth because he's not on Earth. He remained here just long enough to ensure we were able to fix the radar. When Trunks and I were away from Capsule Corp, he took his chance – he could leave with the least likelihood of being noticed. Vegeta... He must've been planning this all along.”

I felt my stomach drop as I listened to Gohan's reasoning.

“But that – that doesn't make sense. He couldn't have just... Even if he was waiting around for the right opportunity, what is he planning to do alone? Why would he leave me behind when I'm the strongest of all of us now? He didn't give any indication that he planned to...” My sentence trickled off.

_'With the nature of what happened, I'm concerned he'll do something rash.'_

_'I don't know how much time we have.'_

_'Your lives were mine to protect, and I failed.'_

_'It is time to make things right. Until I do that, Trunks... forgive me.'_

“Damn it,” I said. “Gods-damn it."

 

\---

 

We were in the pavilion where our ship ought to have been parked. Only Gohan, Goku, and Tarble had accompanied me, and we now stood in the empty space and stared at the sky, thoughts in various stages of emotion.

I, for one, was livid.

Every piece of profanity I knew was racing through my head and out my mouth in frustration. _How_ could he leave me behind?

“Why that inconsiderate, insufferable, reckless _son of a bitch_! One of us is finally strong enough to defeat our enemies, and he just leaves me here?” I raged. “After everything I said to him, he decides I'm still not fucking good enough? He couldn't even be bothered to stay until we brought Mom back!”

“Part of this is my fault,” Gohan admitted. “Those things I said about your mental state... Wherever he's gone, he wasn't willing to get you involved.”

“I'm not so sure. Vegeta's fiercely independent... He probably thinks this is something he has to do alone,” Goku said.

“He isn't the type to accept help, that's for sure,” Tarble added.

“Rrrgh... He could've considered asking for once!” I said.

I'd underestimated Father's cunning, and what emotions would drive him to use it. All that time he'd been spending alone with his own thoughts – he must've been convinced that everything was his duty to deal with. I knew, of course, that some of his emotions over the past several days had been genuine, but he knew how to hide the deeper tempest underneath. Even if we were bringing Mom back, her death had tipped him over the edge, driving him to seek... what? Revenge? Against whom? Broly was dead, and I supposed Paragus would be resurrected by default, but Father wouldn't do this just for Paragus.

“Vegeta's still hiding his energy...” Goku said as he drew his fingers away from his temple. “Even if he wasn't, it would be risky to Instant Transmission to him at this distance, while he's moving in space. If he raises his energy enough at some point, I'll be able to find him, but it'll be harder guessing which direction to look.”

“Then what the hell are we supposed to do?” I demanded, then shifted my attention to Tarble. “Uncle! Don't you have a ship? You must've gotten to Earth somehow!”

“I – y – yes,” he stuttered, “but Bulla and I were dropped off here. I can call Gure back, but the spacecrafts her people make are hardly big enough to fit someone my size, let alone you or Goku. I'm sorry...”

I wracked my brain, trying to come up with any other method available to go after Father.

“Goku, can you sense your mother back on Planet Vegeta? It's possible Father could be going there, and there's probably a ship you could bring back in case he's not,” I tried as a last-ditch solution.

“Because her ki is so small, we're too far away. At this range, it blends in with all the collective energy in the nearby galaxy,” the man replied.

“'Nearby' being a relative term,” Gohan muttered. “Even if we got a ship, we have no way of knowing where Vegeta is unless he raises his energy higher than the life forms around him. If he doesn't want to be found, he's smart enough to keep himself restrained.”

“What I can do is keep a watch out for him,” Goku said. “But if he gets further every day, it'll be harder to catch him if he slips up.”

I clenched my fists at my sides and said nothing else for a moment.

“So what, then?” I asked at length. Goku and his son turned to look at me, while my uncle kept his gaze on the sky.

I let my hands relax. “What do we do now?”

 

\---

 

I already knew from books that Earth was over halfway covered in saltwater. Fathoms of it, cooling deep volcanoes and providing life for millions of species. However, knowing that already did nothing to quell the awe I felt upon seeing the ocean for the first time.

It wasn't quite the colour I'd expected. Instead of matching the sky, it was a much darker shade of blue, with grey and green undertones. A strong scent of salt permeated the area around it for quite a distance, enough that I could almost taste it. I'd known we were getting close long before the ocean had come into sight.

There was no end to it. It seemed to stretch out on an infinite expanse to both sides and ahead of me, shifting and yet not spilling over more than its tide allowed. Planet Vegeta had no oceans; most of our water supply was underground or in small lakes and oases. Even the poles were wastelands of cold rock.

The sand I stood in, what was left of stone worn away by the constant pressure and movement of the sea, was a warm tan, far different than the deep red of back home and much softer. I shifted it with my boot, examining the texture.

“This is it,” Gohan said. I glanced at the radar in his hand, watching the careful blip of light that pulsed and indicated the nearest Dragon Ball's location.

The rest of our group was waiting a short distance away on the beach. Gohan, his father and I had all offered to fetch our next target, so there we were, mustering ourselves in preparation for the literal plunge.

Ironically enough, I didn't know how to swim. Of course, I wasn't at a risk of drowning unless I ran out of air or ki, as I could propel myself under the water like I did through the air. We didn't know how deep we'd have to go, but vision wasn't a problem when your hair could glow gold at will.

“Are you two sure about this? I can manage it by myself, if you want. I know you can't swim very well with only one arm, and _you_ probably can't swim at all, can you?” Goku said.

“Not in the slightest,” I replied.

“Don't worry. Trunks and I can keep an eye on each other in the water. I'm mostly worried about getting our clothes wet, but thankfully this Dragon Ball is a little closer to the equator – and I guess we can dry ourselves after with our ki,” Gohan said.

“Uh-huh. Well, let's get going then, before we waste daylight,” Goku said as he moved to wade right into the water. Gohan took one last look at the distance indicated on the radar, then set it down on the beach.

After a second's hesitation I followed them, floating above the water's surface while Goku and Gohan swam out. The ocean level quickly got deep enough where I could tell they no longer felt the bottom, nor could I see anything but a shifting blue mass when I looked down. Behind us, the beach had become a beige strip, the figures waiting on it small dark sticks.

“Ready?” Goku said, and then he was gone – diving under the water ahead of me with a small splash. A faint glow began to emanate from beneath the surface as he generated his own light.

Gohan glanced up, gave me a quick salute and then disappeared, following his father.

I looked up at the clean blue sky once more, so different from home and yet a familiar shade. Truth be told, I didn't know if my memories of an azure expanse were of Earth's atmosphere, or the ocean below. At the edge of the horizon, their colours blended together.

I took a deep breath, then let myself drop.

 

\---

 

“Eternal Shenron! By your name I summon you forth!”

With Goku's words, the sunset sky above Capsule Corp blackened completely. Within seconds, the fierce radiance of the collected Dragon Balls shot into the darkness, twisting and forming itself into a massive shape. White lightning transformed into a long body of green scales, into a clawed creature with a crested head and glowing eyes that fixed themselves onto us down below.

I hadn't known what to expect, but certainly not something this _huge._

“ **I am Shenron. I shall grant you any one wish. Now speak your heart's desire!** ” the dragon's voice boomed.

“Th – that's a dragon?” I gawked. Its teeth alone were half the length of my body.

“Hey Shenron! We want you to resurrect everyone killed by Broly, the night he attacked the royal palace on Planet Vegeta!” Goku called to it, utterly unperturbed by the sight of the beast.

For a moment, Shenron did nothing. Then his eyes flashed, and his thundering voice rang out once more.

“ **It is done,** ” he said.

In front of us, two glowing blobs began to form, and then as suddenly as they'd appeared, two familiar figures stood in place.

Though we didn't have their bodies with us, I supposed the dragon was able to interpret what a person truly wanted instead of having to rely on specific wording – because there, plain as day, stood Goten and Mom.

The two of them looked bewildered, wearing the same thing they'd been when I'd last seen them, but tidy and unhurt. Mom blinked around, dazed, and Goten looked up above him, eyes widening.

"Shenron?!" he blurted.

" **I have fulfilled your wish. Farewell,** ” the dragon rumbled, and then he became a twist of light once more.

The Dragon Balls rose into the air with him, and then there was a flash and through it, I could see seven glowing forms strike separate ways across the heavens, lighting up the clouds for a brief moment.

The weather cleared, returning the sky to its original burnt orange and deepening blue edges.

"Um... are we on Earth?” Mom asked.

"Well, it's definitely not in the afterlife,” Goten replied, and then he and Mom both turned to look at everyone else, including me.

Chi-Chi was the first to move at a surprising speed.

"MY BABY!” she wailed, tackling Goten right to the ground, Gohan and Goku right behind her and Videl and Piccolo at a greater distance.

Not having expected them to appear right in front of us, I was still frozen in shock for a moment before I darted forward.

"Mom! Is that really you?” I said, having the sense to stop in front of her. I put my hands on her shoulders, feeling for the first time that she was indeed real.

“Trunks? You're...” she began, but stopped as I pulled her into an embrace.

I hugged her as tightly as I dared, burying my face into her shoulder. I felt my grandparents at my back, joining in with the reunion.

“Trunks, I'm so happy to see you,” Mom said. “I wasn't sure if you – if you'd made it. I couldn't find you in the lineup or after that, there was only Goten and then Goku showed up to -”

“I'm alive Mom, I'm okay. It's okay, you're here,” I said. Abruptly, when I felt my eyes start to sting, I relaxed my hold and turned a little so that she couldn't see my face, bringing a hand up to wipe it.

“Bulma, sweetheart!” Grandma cooed. “We're so glad to see you! It's been so long!”

“Mom, Dad!” my mother said, keeping me close while greeting her parents. “I've missed you! What happened? How long was I dead?”

“L – less than two weeks,” I answered, trying very hard not to have any more sudden fits of tears. Although it felt like I was going to break down whether I wanted to or not. “It t – took us awhile to fix the radar, but that – that doesn't matter now.”

“Trunks, come here, I want to see you,” Mom said, pulling me back to her. She brushed my hair away from my face, looking me over to ensure I was safe and sound. I probably appeared a mess, getting emotional like this plus not having slept well or had a real appetite in so long. Although I hadn't paid too much attention to my health, Saiyans required a lot of fuel to keep themselves in top shape, and my diminished appetite and high metabolism had started to make me leaner.

Mom didn't comment on any of this, instead reaching up and kissing me on the forehead.

“Mom, you don't have to do that,” I protested halfheartedly. She smiled, hands gently on my face the same way Grandma would do.

Mom's expression shifted, then she looked around. “Where's your father, Trunks?”

I dropped my gaze to the ground.

“Oh no – honey, look at me, is he -” she stuttered.

“He's alive,” I reassured, “but I don't know where he is. He left... without...”

I didn't bother to finish. I was distracted as Yamcha came over to greet Mom, and at that point I heart the conversation from the group across from us.

“Guys – I just got brought back to life. I need air if I'm gonna stay that way,” I heard Goten wheeze from within his pile of family members. “And if you two keep crying, it's gonna make me start crying.”

I looked over. Goten had gotten to his feet and was smiling in embarrassment as Chi-Chi clung to him on one side, Gohan on the other. Both of them were shedding tears, the former more so, as Piccolo, Videl, and Goku had untangled themselves from the reunion.

I gave Mom one more glance, then broke away from her to approach my long-lost friend.

When I stopped a distance away from him, he met my eyes, realizing I was there.

“Hey,” I said to him.

“H – hey,” he said back. His family gave him a bit of space as some of them went to greet Mom, Goten moving until we were an arm's length apart.

“The last time I saw you, you were... I thought you were dead too,” he continued.

“Not quite,” I replied, the collar of my top loose enough for me to pull it and reveal just the upper part of my scar for a moment.

“How did you survive?” he asked. “Dad gave me a vague explanation of what happened, but...”

I shook my head once. “Long story.”

He raised an eyebrow, but then set the matter aside. “Nevermind that. For now, I'm just glad we're both here. I really didn't think...” He started moving towards me, maybe to embrace me, but I put a hand on his chest to keep him where he was.

He stopped, then blinked his dark eyes at me in confusion. They looked more of a soft brown in the sunset than their normal coal black.

“Explain something to me,” I said.

“... Explain?” he echoed.

My hand fisted into his shirt where it rested.

“How dare you just give up and die on me!” I blurted, lightly shaking him as I felt my emotional dam cracking.

“Wha...?” he sounded. “You're _mad_ at – you think I died on purpose? Maybe you should try it sometime!”

“I'm not trying to say you died on purpose, you idiot! I'm saying that you dying without me is unacceptable!”

Some sort of understanding combined with his surprise as I went on. “You saved my life, refusing to let _me_ die, but then Broly kills you and you just expect me to accept that? How would you feel if I died and left you behind? You're the one who said that where we go, we go together!”

Goten smiled softly. “You can't just say you missed me, can you? You really are a mess. I don't think I've seen you cry since we were kids.”

“I'm not cr...” I was crying. Damn it all.

I let him hug me this time.

Once I'd found my composure and pulled away, Goten gestured with his chin.

“I'd ask who your uncle's holding over there, but I think I can make a pretty good guess,” he said. I turned around, espying Tarble some space away, visible but still retreated from the group. Behind him hid a familiar little girl, clutching at his hand and tail. I'd never seen her act shy like that, but the unfamiliar amount of people could be overwhelming, especially when a mother she'd never met was a part of those people.

I gestured for Goten to follow me, and then when I caught Tarble's attention, did the same to him.

He hesitated for a second, then moved our way, leading Bulla along behind him. When we drew close enough to the mass around Mom, I gently shouldered my way in, parting the bodies for my diminutive uncle and sister.

“Mom,” I said. Her intelligent blue eyes fixed on me, flickering to Tarble and then back again.

I looked behind me, reaching down to take a small, pale hand and guide its owner to stand beside me.

“There's someone I'd like you to meet.”  


******_\- End of Book I -_ ** ** **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn. 130,000+ words is a milestone to me, especially since when I started this story I envisioned it being half that size. For both its qualities and its cons, this fic is the first actual novel-sized thing I've ever completed. Not only that, but I never thought it would be a series, or ever have a sequel. But the story just grew and grew until it eventually didn't fit very well into just ADARB. 
> 
> The story will continue in book two (not Distance From Fate), which will be posted when I have a chapter or so completed. It'll be a little faster paced and have more action, and will conclude the overarching plot established in book one.


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